


Breaking Through

by breakingthrough



Series: Breaking Through [1]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actors, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Biting, Celebrities, Developing Relationship, Divorce, Established Relationship, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Hollywood, Love Bites, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Post-Divorce, RPS - Freeform, Rough Oral Sex, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 132,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakingthrough/pseuds/breakingthrough
Summary: Over a decade ago, I wrote (and thought I completed) a story on the Nifty Archive called "Breaking Through." It was the height of "Brokeback Mountain"'s influence and there were a slew of other Jake Gyllenhaal-related stories on Nifty. The old story isn't on the archives any longer, but the characters haven't escaped my mind, even after all this time. So, I decided that in the light of "Call Me By Your Name," another great short story that's sweeping the world, it was time to revisit the narrative that I'd started. There will be some continuity issues, but that's to be expected since I can't bear to reread my own work. There will also be some artistic license taken, so real life may not match up with the fictions herein.This is in no way a representation of these characters and their true sexuality. Usual disclaimers apply. A quick primer for the uninitiated: Jake Gyllenhaal and fictional character Christopher Lewis, a novelist, began a somewhat turbulent relationship. This new story will take place in a loose version of the present day and most of the main ideas from the first go-round will remain for the most part. Jake is still an actor and Chris is still a writer, but with a 10-year jump in time, some things have changed. The new story will do away with a lot of the tertiary characters in the old narrative, as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Over a decade ago, I wrote (and thought I completed) a story on the Nifty Archive called "Breaking Through." It was the height of "Brokeback Mountain"'s influence and there were a slew of other Jake Gyllenhaal-related stories on Nifty. The old story isn't on the archives any longer, but the characters haven't escaped my mind, even after all this time. So, I decided that in the light of "Call Me By Your Name," another great short story that's sweeping the world, it was time to revisit the narrative that I'd started. There will be some continuity issues, but that's to be expected since I can't bear to reread my own work. There will also be some artistic license taken, so real life may not match up with the fictions herein. 
> 
> This is in no way a representation of these characters and their true sexuality. Usual disclaimers apply. A quick primer for the uninitiated: Jake Gyllenhaal and fictional character Christopher Lewis, a novelist, began a somewhat turbulent relationship. This new story will take place in a loose version of the present day and most of the main ideas from the first go-round will remain for the most part. Jake is still an actor and Chris is still a writer, but with a 10-year jump in time, some things have changed. The new story will do away with a lot of the tertiary characters in the old narrative, as well.

"This isn't how auditions normally go, I can assure you that," Armie said, his eyes darting around the room, scanning for his jeans and button-up shirt. He'd done his best to look presentable, even going so far as trying to iron his own shirt. In hindsight, that prep wasn't necessary.

"I know. I'm familiar with the process," Chris said. Wondering just how he'd managed to become a cliché. That whole casting couch myth was not exactly a well-hidden secret, especially after the entertainment industry basically imploded from the Harvey Weinstein situation, but he didn't really see himself as someone who perpetuated stereotypes. 

Armie blushed, a rosy scarlet color flushing all the way down to his chest, which was still on full display. Chris had become somewhat familiar with that chest just a few hours ago, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment. "I'll get out of your way," Armie said, clumsily sliding into his jeans. Chris watched, somewhat rapt at seeing the lithe body in such a series of awkward positions. 

"This isn't the worst thing that's ever happened in this room," Chris said, rubbing his eyes. "I heard that John Belushi died in here."

"I think that's bungalow three. You're in bungalow one," Armie said, finally looking somewhat presentable. He corrected himself, "We're in bungalow number one." 

Chris nodded, sliding out of bed. He was still wearing his underwear, so things couldn't have gotten that far out of hand. Plus, the fact that he was stone cold sober helped reassure him that he wasn't some sort of predatory casting director-in-training. "Armie, calm down. Don't make things weirder than they have to be."

"Things are weird," Armie said, smoothing his clothes and standing up straight. "I'll see myself out." He didn't mention anything about the audition or the movie. Business and pleasure shouldn't mix, especially not when business involved a lot of media coverage.

A few minutes later, Chris finally let himself shrug off the whole situation. Taking stock, he ordered coffee service, a croissant, and decided there was enough time to enjoy both before he had to head back to the studio offices to finish what he came down to Los Angeles for: casting another movie. Sunglasses perched on his nose, he wheeled the room service cart out onto his private patio -- greenery covering an ancient chain-link fence provided enough coverage from passersby -- and set out to get things started in his brain.

Armie Hammer wasn't his first choice, but the movie's producers thought that he would be. After 'Call Me By Your Name' had gotten so much awards-season buzz, it seemed like a perfect fit. Chris was a well-known, award-winning writer. He had also been in a very public relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal, which made him a player in the movie business, whether he liked it or not. Though he did his best to stay out of the headlines -- and succeeded, for the most part -- there was a niche part of the industry that did follow him. The mix of his publishing pedigree and his Hollywood connections earned him a fair amount of respect, but the fact that none of his books had ever had the success of his debut novel wasn't lost on anyone. Plus, even though some of his other books had gotten movie options, only two films had ever been completed. One was thanks to Jake. Neither were box-office successes. That fact wasn't lost on Chris.

When he closed his eyes, he could still smell Armie's cologne, feel his lean back under his fingertips. It was definitely nice, but he wasn't looking for anyone that way right now. Things were still settling down since the separation and subsequent divorce. Sitting between auditions, there was a lot of time to close his eyes. He was hoping that this third film would be a sea change. He'd decided after he sold the rights that if it didn't, he'd quit this whole book-to-movie thing entirely. It wasn't worth the effort when there was nothing to show for all the work. Maybe he'd let other people take the reigns after he submitted the final draft of his novels. The thought made him snicker. Jake had always said he had an issue giving up control of his work, it was like giving away a child, not that either of them had ever gone through that specific situation. It always just seemed like the right metaphor.

"I think that Armie Hammer is the only guy from this batch that hits all my buttons," Chris said to the team, which included the new movie's director and executive producer. "But I don't know if he'll want to play a gay character again. He's probably getting a bunch of offers for more mainstream things. This isn't going to be a big-budget thing."

"He's game," Diablo Cody said. She was excited about Armie, especially since they'd been shopping the movie to Netflix, something new for everyone involved. It also meant that it would be mainstream, whether Chris thought so or not. "I'll keep him on the list."

She'd been one of the major players who pushed Chris to get his novel adapted, even though he was clearly reticent at the thought of it. It sold plenty of copies, so it had name recognition, but Chris was always more concerned with how the critics looked at it. They were lukewarm at best and like so much of his work, nobody seemed to think that it compared to the first book. It was basically universally acknowledged in the literary world that Chris was considered a one-hit wonder, but people seemed willing to give him one more go over and over again. The movies helped that. So did the shorter work that he did, published more frequently in "The New Yorker" and "The Atlantic." Maybe readers could only handle him in smaller doses, he sometimes thought.

"Dave Franco was also good," Jean-Marc Vallée added. He'd directed Jake on multiple occasions, so he was a close friend. Chris didn't know if this project was more of a favor on his part or if he was genuinely interested in working together. He was hoping for the latter, but he never could read Jean-Marc. They'd always been cordial, but the working relationship was between Jean-Marc and Jake, not Chris and Jean-Marc. Jake had always called him a genius and Chris didn't ever disagree. "Kit Harington, no. Taron Egerton, maybe. I like him more than Kit."

"Agreed," Chris and Diablo said almost simultaneously. Her hand grasped his on the table, some hope igniting the air between them and throughout the entire room. "So there's that," Diablo continued. "Ansel Elgort is too young. But let's keep him in mind for something else."

"I don't like him," Chris said. "He's cocky. He's got an attitude."

"I could say the same about you," Jean-Marc said, crossing his arms and smiling. "I don't think he's right either, though. For anything."

After an entire day of auditions, both for his male lead and a few other roles, Chris was slumped in the back of his black Escalade, provided by the studio to take him anywhere and everywhere he wanted. It was gauche to say the least, but it was convenient. Even though he'd been in and around Los Angeles enough to know the city, having someone else drive was a luxury he would never refuse. Jake usually drove everywhere, anyway, so he was accustomed to it.

And just as thoughts of his ex-husband came to mind, the car stopped in front of the restaurant they'd chosen. Chris thanked the driver, opened the door, and was basically scooped into Jake's arms. "Hey you," came the familiar voice.

"I'm exhausted," Chris said, letting his hands linger on Jake's shoulders.

"Good thing I got us a booth then," Jake said, leading the way into the restaurant. "You can take a nap after we order."

It wasn't unusual for the two of them to meet up. Reporters hated it, since every sighting meant that there was a possible reconciliation, but both of their teams made sure that official interviews stayed on topic. One official statement got released after the separation and after their divorce was finalized, there was one more. Neither of them ever spoke of the relationship in public.

"L.A. sucks," Chris said, settling into the huge leather booth. "It literally sucks the energy out of me. I don't know why, since all I do is sit around."

"Your brain is a muscle," Jake said, eyes skimming the menu. "I don't think you'll ever get used to it. I know I'm not. You just have to trust your team. They want things to go well." 

"I want things to go well," Chris said, noticing how the flickering candlelight seemed to pick up the lighter browns in Jake's hair, even though the candles were the electric kind. His eyes also looked particularly nice, even though they were slightly sunken, a byproduct of having to put on muscle for one role and lose it for the next, only to repeat the process the next year. "I heard that you're jumping around galleries like a crazy person. I don't know how you're not tired."

"A lot of coffee," Jake said. Chris also noticed that Jake wasn't wearing his wedding band anymore. Neither was he. Instead of wearing it on his finger, it was on a chain around his neck. For a second, he wondered where Jake kept his. Even though he was mentally exhausted, he tried to figure out which trinket box it could be in. The teak one they bought in Thailand? They'd found it at a temple and bought it after getting blessed during a sacred ceremony that involved being doused with holy water. Jake kept that one by his bed. In his office, there was a porcelain one they bought in Kyoto together. It could be in there, too. Maybe it was just on the leather catchall Jake kept by the front door. It wouldn't surprise Chris. As sacred as it was to both of them, it was still just a ring and Jake took it off all the time to wash his hands, to cook, and even when he worked out. "You know he's married, right?"

"Nothing happened," Chris said.

"It wouldn't be like we were. It would be a big deal for him, for you."

"I don't want anything to happen between us," Chris said. "He was just being flirty and it felt really nice to make out with someone."

"I don't want you to look like a home-wrecker," Jake said. "I know that they're divorcing. Everyone knows. But it's not a good look for anyone."

The fact that the two of them didn't even have to say Armie's name brought a slight grin to Chris' lips. He wondered how Jake found out. Armie probably told him directly. It seemed like something he'd do, Chris thought. Without them even having put in an order, a huge tray of seafood came out, the dry ice causing billows of condensation across their table. It brought a smile to Chris' face. As much as he didn't like the idea of being in the spotlight, there was no reason to turn down an entire lobster, pre-cracked crab legs, and too many shrimp and mussels to count. Plus, it was just an excuse to chow down on cocktail sauce, which was one of his favorite things. There was no denying the high that came with the sinus-clearing power of horseradish.

"He wanted to be in the movie," Chris said. "Wanted, I guess. Who knows now? I think we basically dry humped each other like high school kids. Catholic school kids."

"You know I don't want anyone dry humping you," Jake said, his fork plunging into a particularly huge shrimp. "But shouldn't his talent count for something? He's no starlet."

"Did you jerk off to his new movie?" Chris asked. "I wouldn't blame you."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "I don't like when they write things about you in the trade rags," Jake said simply. "It hurts my feelings."

"Then imagine what it does to mine," Chris said.

"I heard Aaron Taylor Johnson auditioned," Jake retorted. "Too young?"

"Lot of young ones coming out of the woodwork," Chris said. "Is there a lack of projects out there? Are movies not getting made? Why do they want to do this one?"

"You got some big names," Jake answered. "You're a big name." 

"I was," Chris said. "Then I dropped your name and I thought I was back to being a small name."

"I guess those books with 'Christopher Gyllenhaal' on them are collector's items now?"

"Definitely. If you have signed copies I hear they're going for a ton on eBay."

"One cent plus shipping?" That earned Jake a kick under the table.

Back at the hotel, Chris flopped down onto his bed. Exhaling, he rubbed his stomach, distended with seafood, a salad that was more cold cuts and cheese than greens, and a huge tomahawk steak that he split with Jake. The fries? He wouldn't share those. The last thing he expected was a knock at the door. He didn't ask for turndown service, because nobody he knew ever did that. 

"You left your sunglasses on the table," he heard through the door. It was Jake.

Seeing Jake at the threshold was enough to make him smile again. "Thanks," Chris said. He kissed Jake on the cheek. 

It was the strain of working together and being together, Chris told himself. Jake put work before their relationship when they were together, he figured. Things were easier when they didn't try to get on the same project. Working together made living together hard. Kissing him in a hotel room was easy.

They weren't exactly kissing, but they were...together. Armie approached bungalow one slowly. He wasn't expecting to see them both. He wasn't exactly expecting to see either one, having simply hoped that he'd be able to slip Chris' key under the doormat. He should have left it with the front desk, but part of him had hoped to see Chris again.

Jake pulled Chris close to him. Shocked at the sudden closeness, Chris instinctively reached around Jake's neck. Everything was instinctive. Natural, even.

"It's what it looks like," Jake said against Chris' neck, his hands grazing Chris' ass.

Armie recoiled, cringing. "I have a key," he said, his voice shaky.

"I'll take that," Jake said, pulling it out of Armie's outstretched hand. 

"Stop," Chris said, untangling himself from Jake's possessive embrace. "Thank you. He's joking with you."

"Funny," Armie said as he took a step backward. "Very funny."

"I'll go," Jake said. "And young man, I suggest you do the same. He's damaged goods. I would know. I did most of the damage."

"Classic Jake humor," Chris said, straightening himself. "Thanks again, Armie. I appreciate it. I probably wouldn't be able to check out without this."

Jake held his hands up in false surrender. "Thank you for dinner," Jake said to Chris. He held out a hand to Armie. Reflexively, they shared a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Armand."

"I'm sorry you had to endure that," Chris said when Jake was very much out of earshot. "He didn't mean anything by that." And before Armie could say anything, Chris added, "We're not back together."

"It's cool that you guys still hang out," Armie said. "But it's awkward for anyone...who...doesn't know, I guess."

"Yes, it's very awkward. Did you want to come inside?"

"I'd like that very much."


	2. Chapter 2

"A few more guys have entered the running," Diablo said through the phone. Chris was walking along the Venice canals. It wasn't Santa Barbara, but it was definitely closer to L.A. and he'd decided it was far enough away from the main parts of the city that he could deal with it. Plus, he loved walking along the water. There were a lot of people walking their dogs and he liked being able to look into peoples' houses at night, when everyone leaves their lights on and forgets to close their drapes. 

"I think that you should have them test with Elizabeth before we get everyone together again. It's tough to get Jean-Marc down here," he explained. "I don't want to waste his time." There were other perks of living outside of the usual celebrity spots, too. If studios were still willing to have him stay in hotels so things would be more "convenient" for everyone, he'd play along with that, too. During rush hour, which was basically all day, he could always use traffic as an excuse to get out of anything. It was equal parts rude and reclusive.

"Agreed," he heard, even though he was being distracted by a pair of corgis sitting at the front of their owners' paddleboards. 

He and Jake hadn't sold the house in Santa Barbara, though. He used it as a sort-of writer's retreat, heading there when he really needed to get away from Los Angeles. Jake used it as a crash pad, but so did most of the Gyllenhaal family. Chris didn't mind, since it always seemed to work out for everyone. It meant he'd run into Maggie's kids, Gloria and Ramona, once in a while, too, so it was all the better.

"I still like the guys we've seen so far, but chemistry is important, so I don't think we can really jump on anyone yet. Plus, don't we have to talk about money? What if the movie can't afford them?"

"That's not for you to worry about," Chris heard. That was a relief. He always forgot that he was just consulting on some parts of the project. He was glad that other aspects of movie making were completely out of his hands. The studio executives were probably glad of that, too.

It was a change in his normal routine, this whole movie ordeal, but for once, Chris didn't mind. While he usually stuck to a very regimented schedule, which kept his writing in check and his editors happy, being bombarded with a new project, a new house, and plenty of other change should have given him a nervous breakdown. Instead, it was a welcome distraction.

Chris' new house wasn't exactly an architectural marvel, but it was more modern -- and smaller -- than anything he'd ever lived in. With an entire wall of windows on two sides, every room had a view of the canals. It wasn't homey in any way he was used to, but it was a new-to-him home and he was happy for it. He'd read so much about how messy and angry divorces were. He was lucky in a lot of ways. Lucky he could go for jogs along the beach. Lucky that he hadn't been completely blacklisted from the publishing industry for being extraordinarily mediocre and the movie industry for being a perpetual letdown. His agent had always said that he was only as good as his last book, but it looked like fate had managed to prove that adage wrong. At least for now, he was still as good as his first one.

"I didn't think you came out during the day," Chris heard a familiar voice just as he reached one of the bridges that spanned the canals.

"I didn't think you were back in California," Chris said back.

The friendship between Chris and Sebastian Stan was unlikely, since Jake and Sebastian didn't work in the same circles. But thanks to awards season, Chris did bump into Sebastian once or twice. Then, Chris moved to Venice, which he thought was celebrity-free; only to find out that it was teeming with them, including one Winter Soldier. 

Sebastian shrugged before leaning against the bridge's guardrails. "I'm here and I'm glad to be. Do you still have my wok?"

"I do," Chris said, taking a spot on the bridge right across from Sebastian. "And I still don't have one of my own."

"Take your time. I'm probably not stir-frying anything soon."

"Me either, unless Blue Apron wants me to."

Chris appreciated the fact that one of his neighbors was such a nice guy. He simply appreciated the fact that one of his neighbors actually talked to him. It was pretty common for people to basically ignore people who lived just a few yards away from them, which wasn't the case in Santa Barbara.

"I heard from my agent that you're working on something," Sebastian said, pulling his sunglasses to the top of his head. He looked tired, Chris noted. 

"It was in 'The Hollywood Reporter,'" Chris said. "You might want to get a new agent."

"I thought we were friends," Sebastian said as he offered up a pout.

"You've got six Marvel movies to make," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "Do you want to come over for the wok? I have leftovers, too, if that's appealing."

"Leftover Blue Apron or leftover take-out?"

"You wouldn't be able to tell the difference, I'm that good when everything comes pre-measured. It's the Ikea of food."

Chris liked having Sebastian around. Not only was he a great guy, he was a great sounding board. Asking Jake things now and then was fine, but sometimes, having a neutral body was a very good thing. Sebastian may have a big Marvel contract, but he was still flying under-the-radar, so he saw things differently. Chris found himself picking Seb's brain pretty often.

"I don't think you're being too picky," Sebastian said just before they reached Chris' front door. "I just think it's a good idea to forget about those kids. Why waste your time? They're wasting their time, too."

Nodding, Chris unlocked the door and welcomed Sebastian inside. They'd hung out plenty of times before, right at the kitchen island. Very rarely had Chris' personal life come up, which was a relief to him, and the same went for Sebastian's. All Chris knew was that he had a girlfriend, liked to jog in the morning, and really enjoyed Stella Artois. Chris kept a six-pack in the fridge just for Seb after he brought it up during an impromptu grilling session. The Santa Maria-style barbeque should have been easy for Chris, who grew up eating it, but it proved to be more of a challenge for both of them than they'd expected. At least their neighborhood had good restaurants. They discovered that night that nothing brings two guys together like the combination of failure and hunger.

Being that they were new friends, Chris didn't know whether or not bringing up his situation with Armie Hammer would be appropriate. Instead, he sat back and enjoyed hearing about Sebastian's latest adventures with his "Avengers" friends. With big names and even bigger budgets, it was far more exciting than anything he'd ever worked on, even when he tagged along to Jake's projects. It was a whole different world.

"I can introduce you to the whole group one day. Maybe you can come to the wrap party," Sebastian suggested. "It's a good time, even if you're just watching from the sidelines."

"I'd like that," Chris said, even though he was sure an invite to something that big would never materialize. Now that he wasn't Jake Gyllenhaal's plus one, big-ticket events weren't really filling up his iCal.

"Can I get a copy of the book," Sebastian asked. "I like to read them before I see the movie."

"You've got a while to read it, then," Chris said. "But, yes. I can get one to you. I probably have one upstairs somewhere."

"I've never seen your upstairs," Sebastian said.

"Only my cleaning lady has," Chris said quickly. "But you're more than welcome. It's a pretty exciting bedroom and office setup up there. Shall I lead the way?"

"Don't get fresh with me, Lewis." 

"I would never," Chris said. "Straight guys aren't my thing. Grew out of that in high school."

"Our loss," Sebastian said, following Chris up the stairs. The house was pretty open downstairs, with the living room flowing into the kitchen and a smaller family room. But upstairs, it was a more standard setup. There was a small landing at the top, where Sebastian saw a classic Eames lounger and a tiny table before Chris stopped.

"That's my bedroom," Chris said, pointing down one side of the house. "And this is the office," he said as he led Sebs into the other room. "Where there should be a book I can give you."

"No boys allowed in the bedroom?" Sebastian asked.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Don't tease me."

"Honestly, I just wanted to know if I could see my house from up here," Sebastian said, grinning. Chris motioned towards his closed door and Sebastian took it as an okay to step into the hallowed ground. Just like Sebastian imagined, it was neat and tidy. He swung open the floor-to-ceiling drapes and peered out over the canals. While his own house faced towards the ocean, Chris' faced inland. And there it was: across the canal and a few houses down, he saw his own home. The angle didn't allow for either one of them to see anything, but he could clearly see his house. 

"I never thought to look for your house," Chris said. "Am I going to have the honor of seeing your bedroom?"

"It's not as exciting as you think," Sebastian said, "if you think about it at all."

"Who hasn't thought about Sebastian Stan's bedroom?"

"You just said you weren't into straight guys."

"Touche."

In addition to the bed, Sebastian noticed a smaller armchair. He walked over to it and angled it so that it was facing toward the window, aimed right over at his house. "Now you can see when I'm home. We don't have to keep meeting on the bridge."

"I was about to put a padlock on the bridge to commemorate the love we share," Chris said. "And now that you've succeeded in creeping me out, let's get you that book."


	3. Chapter 3

Whenever he thought about the day he actually signed the divorce paperwork, Chris always described his attitude as "resigned." Jake was filming in Toronto. He was home. They'd been apart for a month at that point and Chris was basically just waiting for the call from their lawyers. Without the drama of arguing about things, it seemed almost inconsequential. Chris had already decided to move south, Jake was going to take ownership of his family's home in the Hollywood Hills. There'd be an entire city between them, Chris thought at the time. 

Sometimes, he wondered if things would have been different if the projects they worked on together were better received. It was tough when critics dismissed the movies as vanity projects. Chris was protective of his books and Jake respected that. But just like he couldn't seem to get things perfect in his own professional life, he couldn't hit anything out of the park when he worked with Jake, either. But that was in the past. They'd tried, sort-of failed, and Chris thought that maybe he was being too hard on himself. At least that's what Jake always told him. 

If it came as a shock to anyone who knew -- and both he and Jake made sure that very few people knew -- they kept their opinions to themselves. It may have been different for Jake, but everyone in Chris' orbit seemed to walk on eggshells during the whole process. The fact that they weren't together at the time made it easier, too. Without even realizing it, they'd spent most of the last year of their marriage apart, aside from holidays and the few weeks Jake had between projects. Chris focused on his magazine work and since book tours were basically going the way of the dodo, it wasn't like he had readings and events to attend. 

"Things aren't working, are they?" Jake said over the phone. "I can tell that you're not happy."

"I don't think I'm unhappy," Chris said. He remembered feeling his heart pound during the phone call. "Do you want me to fly out? I think we should talk about it."

"Yeah, let's meet up somewhere. Not here. Somewhere where it's just the two of us." Jake had imagined it going worse. He expected a fight of some sort, some yelling maybe. But he shouldn't have. He couldn't remember them ever yelling at one another, even when they were actually arguing. 

Nobody ever told him that he should work at it. Maybe if someone did, things would have turned out differently, but after he scribbled his signature, things were done. Before that, however, they met in Chicago. While they explored the city's museums together, Chris could feel the tension disappear. This was the Jake that he wanted to be around, not the Jake that got frustrated when he had problems getting funding for a movie. Not the Jake that wanted to turn every single one of Chris' stories into something. A miniseries. A movie. A TV show. A web series. Chris didn't care. The money was nice, since he got a paycheck every time something got optioned, but that wasn't why he wrote. That wasn't why anyone wrote.

But things were different when Jake was working. By now, it was common knowledge that he got deep into character with every role. And the two of them were always working. If Jake wasn't deep in a production, he was getting everything lined up for the next. Chris liked to write alone. Writing without distraction happened to be writing without companionship, too. When things worked, it worked so well for the both of them. But when they were so deeply entrenched in their own stuff, it wasn't working. The weekend in Chicago left Chris with more questions than answers. Maybe the two of them had just gotten so accustomed to the frenetic energy that they managed to deal with it. Chris wasn't sure what the tipping point was, but he didn't like to think about it, either. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he landed on the problem and it ended up being him. 

"I don't want to live the rest of my life without you," Chris said to Jake in a loud, crowded pizzeria. 

"It won't be like that," Jake said as he reached for Chris' knee under the table. "But we've basically spent the last two years apart, if you really think about it. We'll still see each other. We just don't fit together anymore."

Neither of them even considered slowing down professionally. Jake was riding high, earning plenty of critical praise for some of his work. It would be ridiculous to ask him to just stop. Chris would never ask him to do that. Seeing the passion he put into everything he did was one of the things that he admired most.

"What happens to us now?" Chris asked.

"I can't tell you that, because I don't know. The only thing I do know is that we can't keep going the way we are. We're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Neither of them could argue with that.

Now that Chris knew that he could see Sebastian's house -- and his balcony -- from his own bedroom, it was one of the first things he looked at every morning. He never saw Sebastian on the balcony but it was something fun to do while he was brushing his teeth. It was better than staring longingly at his Academy Award, which he kept in the master bathroom, right next to the sink. It was too obvious to have it in the office, he thought. He even considered it a distraction sometimes. There was nothing harder than working in the literal shadow of past success. 

Chris didn't have a balcony, but he did have a patio. He had a setup out there, with a few chairs and a long table, so he worked from it pretty often. It let him watch the people walk by, since there was a path between his house and the canal, and it got him out of the house, even if it was just a few steps. The fresh air was nice, especially when the breezes came in off the Pacific Ocean. Even better was the people watching. Tourists and locals alike wandered around the waterways and Chris loved watching them all. It was one distraction he didn't mind, especially when he was scribbling in his notebook, imagining backstories for some of the more standout passersby.

"Are you alone?" Chris' phone lit up with a new message.

Unlike the rest of the civilized world, Chris hated text messages. He always blamed it on the fact that he wrote for a living. The last thing he wanted to do was write when he could actually speak to someone.

"I'm 10 minutes away from your place," Jake said when Chris called. "If you're not busy, I'd like to stop by."

"I'll start some coffee."

Jake pulled his baseball cap off as he walked through the front door. It was the first time he'd seen Chris' house, but it felt like he'd been there a hundred times before. If anything, Chris was consistent. The house was decorated just like the home they shared in Santa Barbara. Jake followed Chris into the kitchen, tossed his hat on the counter, and took a seat at the island.

"I'm not seeing anyone."

"You're allowed to," Chris said as he poured the two mugs of coffee. "We're not actually together."

"Parking in this neighborhood sucks."

"I have a driveway. You could have parked in it."

"It seemed too intimate."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You've been inside me."

"It's rude," Jake said, grinning. The corner of his eyes wrinkled just like Chris remembered.

"You've cum inside me," Chris added for emphasis. 

"There's going to be a story that's connecting me to Ryan Reynolds," Jake said. "You and I both know that I'd never get involved with another actor, but my team couldn't kill the story. Ryan's team couldn't either. I wanted you to know."

"You could have told me that on the phone."

"I told you I was close," Jake said. "And I wouldn't be able to do this if I said everything over the phone." Jake reached out and grabbed Chris' hand in his own. "I wanted to tell you in person. You deserve that."

"Dating actors is very overrated," Chris said, his fingertips tracing over Jake's knuckles. His eyes watched their hands tangle together. 

Jake smiled and shook his head. "I'm serious. The last thing I want is for your feelings to get hurt. I don't want you to get mad. "

"If I want to get mad, I'll get mad," Chris said.

"I never want to hurt you. I love you too much to do that."

Chris leaned over their mugs and kissed Jake on the lips. Their foreheads pressed together and Chris could feel himself melting into the moment. The bristly feeling of Jake's beard and the warmth of the coffee came together and for that one moment, everything seemed to be right.

"Your house is beautiful," Jake said as he pulled away slightly. "I didn't expect any less."

"It'll do," Chris said, his lips were so close that they brushed Jakes as he spoke. He only now realized that he was on his tiptoes as he leaned across the counter.

A quick tour and a few more sweet exchanges later, Chris watched as Jake's Tesla drove off in near-silence. He leaned his back against the front door and looked up to the sky, wondering just how they managed to have it all and then end up like this. 

Back on the patio, Chris tapped away. Though the entire world considered him a writer, there was more editing to be done than anything else. He wasn't sure how any other people worked -- he'd never really discussed his methods with anyone aside from his ex in-laws -- but when he wrote, he produced a tsunami of words and ideas. It wasn't difficult for him to write ten or even twenty pages in a few hours at his laptop. Then came the hard part. Somehow, he had to polish it all to make it presentable, digestible to the people who didn't inhabit his brain. That's what took forever. 

A few days later, Chris was back up in Hollywood. He wasn't at the Chateau Marmont, but he was walking around the Sony lot, wondering just how long it would take to cast the movie. Admittedly, he had little to do with it. The studio and Jean-Marc were probably doing their part to make him feel included. His contract stipulated that he would be consulting on everything, casting included. It went without saying that Jake Gyllenhaal wasn't in the running for any part, even though the story of a gay couple struggling to keep their relationship together seemed to take some inspiration from real life. There was enough speculation being thrown around and nobody wanted to stoke that fire more than necessary. It probably would sell tickets, though. It would probably be the most successful collaboration of their careers, Chris thought.

"Let me take you to dinner," Chris heard over his shoulder. "I want to make my case."

He turned on his heels, coming face-to-face with Armie's chest. He looked up, his eyes meeting the actor's always-imposing 6-foot-5 frame and was taken aback. "You're just wandering the lot?"

"I could ask you the same question. You're a long way from the offices."

"I'm not just trying to land your movie. I've got to have a backup plan if you're set to break my heart."

"I'm no heartbreaker," Chris said.

"I have evidence to the contrary," Armie said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Anywhere you want. I'll treat. Let me convince you."

"That's what auditions are for," Chris said. "If you're looking to wine and dine, you need to talk to the team, not to me."

"I want to talk to you."

"I have to get home," Chris said. "I have a car coming for me."

"Cancel it. I'll drive you home. You live in the Hills, right? It's probably not far from me." Armie's voice was like velvet. Smooth and inviting, it was tough to resist anything that sounded so nice. Add to that everything else, the height, the build, the charm and the

"I live the complete opposite direction of you. Another time. We've got a lot of decisions to make, Armie. As much as I like you, it's really not up to me."

"Give yourself more credit than that."

"I actually have a box of food waiting for me at home. I just have to cook it."

"I love cooking," Armie said, his excitement coming through loud and clear.

Chris bit his lip. He certainly had a type. Beards? Budding chefs? They even had blue eyes. It was such a cliché. What was it about him that even got him this sort of attention? The damaged, tortured artist? He thought people were over that at this point. Was it all a cosmic joke? 

"Let's not give me that much credit," Chris explained. "It's like saying paint by numbers is real painting. I'm really just putting it all together."

"Let me do it. It'll be like that part in the book."

And with that suggestion, Chris was strapping himself into Armie's Tesla and typing his home address into the navigation system.

"Call me in 30 minutes," Chris tapped at his phone as soon as Armie ducked into the downstairs restroom to clean up before tackling tonight's gourmet recipe: Roasted Cauliflower Salad with Caper Brown Butter & Parmesan Breadcrumbs. He thought he told the people at Blue Apron that he hated cauliflower, but maybe he didn't. Either way, it would be tough to get through a vegetable he hated and an overeager Armie Hammer at his stove. He sent the message to Sebastian and hoped that he wasn't shooting a superhero epic in Atlanta tonight.

Armie practically bounded back to the kitchen and opened Chris' refrigerator unprompted. He froze. "You have beer in here."

"It's not mine." Armie looked alarmed.

"Do you have to call your sponsor or something? I read that you had some problems with that." 

Chris rolled his eyes. "I also have extremely strong willpower and absolutely no desire to drink that. It's for guests. I have people over sometimes. Just...don't worry about it. Don't believe everything you've read about me." He glanced at his phone. No response. Sebastian was his only lifeline in case something awful happened. Calling Jake was out of the question.

"I can help," Chris said as he unpacked the ingredients. "I learned that this is called a 'mise en place' and I am going to be the sous chef. And spoiler alert: it never looks like the picture."

"We'll see about that."

Armie was adept with a knife, Chris discovered. He was also doubly attractive when he was concentrating. Chris didn't know if it was all a show -- he had mentioned that this was some sort of audition -- but he wasn't complaining. There was a meal coming and after the two of them prepped the vegetables, Armie took off his button-up shirt to reveal a tank top. Chris almost had to sit down to take it all in.

"Do you cook for your wife," Chris asked. Armie noticeably bristled at the mention of it. 

"We had someone cook for us sometimes," he said, his eyes still focused on the task at hand. "And our divorce was finalized. She's my ex-wife."

"I didn't mean anything by that," Chris said. "You're just...very skilled."

"I like cooking. I like you, too, if I haven't made that clear enough. I don't like that you're playing games with me, but I'm being a good sport about it."

"I am enjoying your company," Chris said, nearly stuttering at Armie's very glib statement. "And I hate cauliflower. So, you can't win 'em all tonight."

"You should have said something before I poured my soul into assembling this meal."

"Don't stop because of me. We've got to eat."

"I need a grill pan," Armie said, a hint of contentment slowly returning to his voice.

"I don't have one, but I know where I can get one." Chris pulled his phone out.

"You said 30 minutes," came the voice on the other end. Chris whipped around, hoping Armie didn't hear that. "Hey, I need a grill pan."

"You just gave me my wok back," Sebastian said. Chris wished he could run upstairs to see if Sebs was home.

"I'll outfit my kitchen soon, I promise. I just need it now."

"I think I have one. Do you want me to bring it over?"

"I've got someone here, but I can come get it. I'll be right there."

Chris hung up and stood across the island from Armie. "All set. Let's go for a walk. You want to put your guns away? I'd lend you a jacket, but nothing I own will fit you."

Armie set down his knife and headed towards the family room, where he'd tossed his shirt. "You're not going to take me somewhere and drown me, are you?"

"I need you to finish cooking first."

After buttoning up his shirt, he followed Chris out the back door. "It's really nice out here," he said as he took some deep breaths, letting the sea air fill his lungs. Lights reflected in the water and everything seemed still, even though they both knew that there was probably a lot going on in the houses they passed. People were coming home from work, probably doing the same thing as them, fixing dinner and decompressing.

Chris was relieved to see the lights on in Sebastian's house as he and Armie approached. "My friend has the pan," Chris explained. "We swap kitchen things, except it's mostly me using his kitchen things."

Sebastian's patio was a little more done up than Chris', with a fire pit and a few comfortable-looking chairs set around it. There was also a built-in grill and a mini-fridge. He stood on the other side of the low fence that surrounded the whole thing and waved. He could see Sebastian inside.

"Hey man," he said as he came out with the pan in-hand. "I use this a lot, actually, so I can come get it tomorrow." His voice trailed off as he saw Armie, his eyes moving up to meet Armie's, like so many people had to do. Chris had seen it plenty of times. 

Armie offered a hand, which Sebastian took warmly, pulling him into a sort of half-hug over the fence. "Long time," he said.

"Are you guys friends?" Chris asked, surprised.

"We've crossed paths. TV stuff," Sebastian said. "It's been a while." Chris could sense some tension, but it wasn't something he planned on dealing with tonight. He was hungry, Armie was being a perfect gentleman, and if there was anything Sebastian needed to tell him, it could wait until after dinner.

"Thank you for this," Chris said, gesturing with the heavy pan. "We're going to get back to the cauliflower."

"Good luck," Sebastian said, smiling. "I'm looking forward to hearing about his culinary adventure."

"See ya," Armie said, half-waving. A few minutes later, Armie finally broke the uneasy silence. "I didn't know you knew Sebastian."

"I didn't. We're neighbors though. We're friends now."

"That's cool," Armie said. "Rare for L.A."

"Rare? Doesn't everyone have a famous neighbor out here?"

Chris heard Armie chuckle. Back at the house, the rest of the recipe went smoothly. Armie definitely knew his way around the kitchen, even if it was his first time in that particular kitchen. And for the first time he could remember, he brought the food to the dining room table and watched Armie basically stare him down with every bite. He'd put his shirt back on before sitting down. Proper to a fault, Chris thought. And for once, the food really did look like the photos.

"It's good," Chris assured him. "Really. I appreciate you coming to make it."

"I had a good time," Armie said, finally relaxing. "Did I pass? Are you finally going to look at me and not think of me being a creepy stalker looking for a role?"

"I never thought you were a creepy stalker," Chris said, sitting back in his chair. They looked nice, he determined, but were definitely not comfortable. "I thought you were a little overenthusiastic, but I don't think that anyone else felt that way."

"Thank you," Armie said. Chris could practically feel the tension melting away from his body. Armie relaxed. He smiled. Chris instantly regretted lighting candles and bathing an already handsome man in ultra-flattering light. The flickering flames made Armie's golden hair shimmer and enhanced his permanent tan. His short beard was perfectly unkempt. Chris needed to stop associating with movie stars. It couldn't be good for his self-esteem. "I appreciate you taking the time to give me a chance."

"I can't guarantee anything, Armie."

"I'm not asking for that. But spending time with you was all I really wanted tonight. I got that."

The two stayed quiet for the majority of the meal. Partly, Chris assumed, because they were starving. When he stood up to clear the table, Armie finally broke the silence. "Do you ever get used to being by yourself? After I signed the papers, it was like it all came at once."

"Are you lonely?"

"It was a shock," Armie said. "Wasn't it for you?"

Chris shook his head. "We'd been apart for so long." He realized that he'd never told anyone the story. Never really got to hear the words out loud. He told the story slowly and deliberately as he loaded the dishwasher. Armie seemed rapt, like he was getting an inside story. He was, in fact, because Chris and Jake made sure that their joint statement was as bare bones as possible.

"I can make you coffee, but it's late," Chris said. 

"Is that my signal to go?"

"I think that would be a good idea," Chris said, watching Armie's square jaw clench at the thought.

Armie came over to him and wrapped his arms around his chest. Chris leaned back, the contact and warmth bringing a shiver to his spine. "I had a good time with you at the Chateau. The rush of just kissing you...it was like being in high school again." His lips traced along Chris' ear, down to his neck and shoulders.

"It's not gonna happen," Chris said, his voice barely a whisper. "We both have a lot of shit to deal with."

"I just want to kiss you," Armie said as he nipped at Chris' neck. Chris turned around, Armie's hands touching and feeling him all over as he did it, and leaned up. The kiss was hungry and messy. Their tongues ran over each other and Chris could feel his restraint starting to wane. Sensing it, both of them pulled back. Chris took a deep breath. 

"Okay," Chris said, blinking quickly. He tried his best to reorient himself, pushing Armie away, even as his hands lingered on his chest. "That was...something." He felt almost dizzy. Armie leaned in again, but Chris' resolve had steeled itself by now. "If this is going to happen, it can't happen right now."

"I want this right now," Armie said, taking a step backward. His back was up against the refrigerator.

"I don't want to see you the guy after Jake," Chris finally said. He couldn't bring up the word "divorce." They were both going through the same thing, after all. "I need time if we're really going to try anything."

"I don't want to wait," Armie said. "If this movie happens or not, I don't want to look back and think about not trying at all."

"Can we talk about this later? Neither of us is thinking straight. What if...I don't want to say the wrong thing."

"You haven't said anything!" Armie said, his eyes widening. "I can't figure you out."

"We'll see each other tomorrow. It's just a lot to take in right now."

The thought of tomorrow was enough to calm Armie down, give him the slightest glimmer of hope that he hadn't completely made a fool of himself. All the preening and prepping was for something, after all. 

"Let me walk you out," Chris said, collecting himself. "I really did appreciate you coming over." The two of them started towards the door, through the house's dim lighting, every shadow seemingly stretched to infinity and every step bringing the two closer to parting ways. 

"I had a great time," Armie said. "I really did." With that, he flashed that signature smile, considered the night a half-victory, and managed to stumble, face-first, straight down as he missed the step down to Chris' gravel driveway.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's not the first time I've broken my arm," Armie said through a haze of painkillers and sedatives. Chris sighed, wondering how the night could get any worse. After Armie refused to let him call 911, he finally relented and agreed to be taken to the emergency room. A broken arm and broken spirit were the only things either of them had to worry about. A few hours of waiting and Armie was plastered up, his arm resting in a sling. The emergency room was one place A-listers get the same attention as anyone else, Chris thought. For one of the only times in his life, he'd have given anything for some special treatment.

"This won't put me out of the running for the movie," he added for good measure. "A little physical therapy and I'll be fine. Broken bones? I've been there. Six weeks. Eight, max."

"Mr. Hammer knows what he's talking about," the doctor said. Armie practically beamed at the praise. "This should heal up without a problem. I'll get the discharge papers ready."

"Armie," Chris started, only to be greeted by a goofy grin and a smug sense of pride. "As much as I like you for the movie, there's clearly some sort of bad mojo that comes along with me. This could be bad for your career. 

"What are you talking about?" Armie asked, swatting his good hand around. "You're gold." 

Chris chuckled. "I'm definitely not gold," he said. 

"You have an Oscar!" Armie said a little too loud. "It's actual gold! I want one!" Chris needed to get Armie home, only he had no idea where he lived. That would prove to be a problem. All he could recall was some mention of a too-big house in Los Feliz. He didn't even know if it was right to call someone. Was Armie's relationship with his ex still on good terms? Chris realized he hadn't bothered to ask. Against his better judgment, he wheeled Armie out to the car in the hospital-issue wheelchair and drove home.

Armie woke up the next morning, half-remembering that he'd been tucked into a very comfortable bed that wasn't his. He was half-dressed, the painkillers had worn off and every time he tried to move, pain shot through his entire body, spreading from his broken arm to the very ends of his ears and down to his toes. He blinked and blinked, wondering where he was and trying to piece together what happened last night after the fall.

He groaned as he tried to right himself and managed to sit up. Then, like a vision out of a dream, Chris knocked on the door and slid it open. The pocket door was nearly silent and Armie watched as Chris walked in, wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue lounge pants. It wasn't a nurse, but Armie would take it, especially when he saw the water and pill bottle in Chris' hand.

"How do you want your eggs," Chris asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I can't believe we went through that. How do you feel?" The sincerity came back pretty quickly after that first remark.

Armie took the water and pills gratefully, smiling when there was a blueberry muffin handed to him, too. "Better knowing I've got a bottle of these babies."

"Should I call someone? Do you need to let anyone know that you're okay, that I didn't murder you?"

"I'll call my mom. Aside from that, this can be our little secret."

Even with his hair mussed from the pillow and his arm in a cast, Armie looked every bit the leading man. Chris sat down in the chair that Sebastian had moved just a few days earlier. "You scared me," Chris said.

"It's nice to know you care," Armie said, smiling. "What a way to go down though, right? We were this close to coming up here anyway, but I eat it right in front of your house. So smooth." 

"A real Greek tragedy."

"I felt your boner through your pants last night."

"Do painkillers turn you into a high schooler?" 

"Don't be so serious." Armie cracked his neck, groaning at the sensation. He reached over to Chris' nightstand and opened the drawer. "No condoms. I like the way you operate." 

Chris just rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go downstairs?" 

Armie shook his head smugly and settled back against the headboard, "I'm a-okay right here."

"I'll get you your phone. Don't get too comfortable. I've got stuff to do today."

"I'm literally crippled. I think there's a societal obligation for you to help me with everything. Sponge baths included." 

"Stop." 

"You care about me," Armie said in a singsong tone. He repeated it and Chris could hear it, even from downstairs. "You care about me. You care about me." 

Chris straightened up the blanket he used last night and set it on one side of the couch. He carefully placed the pillow on top, trying his best to make everything presentable. For who, he didn't know, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He still had to return Sebastian's pan. He had edits to make on the final draft of the script. He also had Armie Hammer upstairs in his bed. He also questioned his decision to turn the extra bedroom into an office when he did a lot of his work downstairs.

"I didn't mean to put you out of your own bed," Chris heard Armie behind him. His arm was in a sling and a half-eaten muffin was in the other hand. "And I just used your toothbrush." He paused beside Chris and took another bite. "This house has great light. It looks totally different at night." 

"The houses across the way get the sunsets." 

"I'm sure you can see them from upstairs, you basically live in a fishbowl."

"It feels that way sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Don't I know it."

Armie didn't seem like he was in any hurry to leave, Chris noticed. He promised to stay out of the way, but he also insisted that he should take it easy, so he got comfortable on the couch, which conveniently had a pillow and blanket ready for him. Like a good nurse, Chris made sure to give Armie his pills and made sure he was comfortable. It was the least he could do, the guilt kicking in every time he passed by the family room for water or a snack. 

As the day went on, he thought more and more about why he pushed Armie away last night. Part of him wanted to respect the man. He deserved more than someone who jumped right into a new relationship. But Chris couldn't overlook the fact that Armie made him smile when he wasn't trying to get on his nerves.

"Is your mom coming?"

"She lives in Dallas," Armie said over his shoulder. "But if we're skipping to the whole meet-the-folks thing, I can arrange it. She'd love you."

 "You barely know me," Chris reminded him.

 "I know more than you think."

From his own experience, Chris found that people who thought they knew him, people who had read interviews, seen him speak, read all his books, didn't really know him. They knew what Chris wanted them to know. And after Jake, more people than ever thought they knew him. They didn't. Not that he wanted anyone to know everything about him. There was only one person out there who did.

"Come here," Chris said. Armie looked surprised, but followed along, staying a few paces behind Chris as he walked upstairs. He sat down on the top step and Armie did the same, their knees touching. "I put the lounge chair there to see the sunsets. If you couldn't tell, this house isn't really meant for guests." He rested his head on Armie's shoulder and together, they watched the sky change from blue to a watercolor mix of oranges and pinks. Neither of them said anything, but Chris decided that he wasn't going to fight his feelings if it meant that he wouldn't have Armie in his life.

Armie stayed one more night. When he left the next day, Chris actually missed him. "Armie Hammer is a yes," Chris told Jean-Marc over the phone as he brewed his third coffee of the day. "He's my number one."

"He's very tall."

"He's a giant, I know. It'll be tough to find a guy that doesn't look tiny next to him, but I think someone like Liam Hemsworth might work? But maybe someone who isn't so vapid? Who else is on the list?"

"We need to look for more," Jean-Marc insisted. Chris agreed, but time was running out. Soon, they'd have to have screen tests and see how the chemistry worked out between the movie's two leading men and the supporting cast. It could go well and be done in just a few day or stretch everything out even longer. Chris hoped for the latter and prayed that the process would fly by. He'd submitted the final edits and was hoping that he could step away from the entire thing and just let everyone work their magic without him having to consult on every last thing. He'd lived and breathed the book already; the movie shouldn't consume him all over again. 

A few weeks later, Chris opened his front door only to be greeted by a bouquet of peonies. It was so big, he didn't have anything to put them in, so he had to split the bouquet into two smaller vases. Without even looking at the card, he knew it was from Armie. The cover of "The Hollywood Reporter" said it all. He'd landed the lead alongside Gael Garcia Bernal in what the industry was calling a watershed moment. Not only was a major studio movie being made about two men in love, the two men were interracial -- and an openly gay man wrote the story. If that didn't check every box and offer up a reason for studio execs to pat themselves on the back, Chris couldn't think of anything that would. And with the announcement and every other piece coming together, Chris could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It was the beginning of the end of his involvement and he could focus on finding a new story to tell. 

"Congratulations are in order," Jake said through the phone. "I'm really proud of you." 

"Thank you," Chris said as he carried a vase upstairs. "I'm happy about it. About everything."

"You deserve to be. It's a huge deal. How are you celebrating?"

"It sounds like I'm celebrating with you," there was a hint of hope in his voice.

"It would be an honor."

 Jake was wearing a thin sweater. It clung to the muscles of his chest and offered a peek of unruly hair at the collar. They were sitting across from each other at a sushi restaurant, a view of the marina behind Jake. Chris could see sailboats coming in. The sky was already darkening. "What now," Jake asked, pouring tea for the two of them. Chris watched as the steam rose and swirled above the cups. "Are you going to take a break?"

"A long one," Chris said. "And I mean it this time. I might to the city, visit your sister and the kids."

"They miss you. I was FaceTiming them last night."

"I want to really get away though. Off the grid like Cheryl Strayed."

Jake grinned. "You've been reading Cheryl Strayed?"

"No, I overheard a group of women talking about 'Wild' when I got coffee the other day. They were all about it."

Jake laughed at the thought of Chris strapping on a pack and tackling the High Sierras by himself. Calling him a recluse wouldn't be a stretch, but calling him an outdoorsman would. "Remember that time we went to Bali?"

"That's 'Eat Pray Love,'" Chris interjected. "Totally different."

"No, I mean you could go back there. You were into that meditation workshop."

"Yeah, I called it nap time. I've got time to decide. I've got nothing but time right now."

"That's why I ordered the chef's menu. We're gonna be here for hours."

Chris settled in as the sushi came, his eyes watching Jake's biceps flex as he picked up his pieces of fish. While Chris had nothing but an open schedule for the foreseeable future, Jake was headed to North Carolina to shoot. For once, their schedules seemed to work out for the two of them. From past experiences, though, being on set wasn't great for either of them. Jake was deep into character work and the last thing Chris wanted to do was explore a city on his own. He remembered a trip to the Toronto Film Festival. There was so much to do that they barely spent any time together. Aside from nights in their hotel, the event, which was supposed to be fun, was just movie after movie. They spent hours sitting together in theaters, but could barely speak since the movies were back-to-back. Jake was on the judging panel, too, so they even skipped out on most of the parties. That's what work trips were like. Chris could go the rest of his life without experiencing that again.

Between the fatty tuna and the salmon, Chris slid his hand across the table and gripped Jake's. The physical contact felt nice, especially with the good spirits in the atmosphere.

 "You need a break," Jake said as their last two pieces of sushi came. Chris had lost count by now. "I'll miss you, though. I miss you all the time." 

Chris' brow furrowed when he got back to his house. A car was in his driveway, blocking his usual parking spot. He didn't recognize it. Like Jake had said before, parking in his neighborhood sucked. He circled the block and finally wedged his car between a huge SUV and a tiny Fiat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets before heading back around to get to his own home. When he reached his house, the gravel driveway and its drought-friendly landscaping illuminated by the lights that automatically turned on every night, he saw Armie.

"I can see the flowers I sent you!" he said, a beaming smile on his face. He took a few huge steps towards Chris and pulled him into a hug. He came in for a kiss, too, but Chris turned his head and Armie's lips met his cheekbone.

"It's good to see you," Chris said. "Thanks for the flowers. How is your arm?" Chris could see that it wasn't in a cast anymore, but he was still wearing a sling.

"Almost as good as new." Armie's voice was warm. It sent a tingle right down Chris' spine. "I wanted to say thank you in person, though. You don't know how happy I am."

Sighing, Chris wrapped his arms around Armie's waist and let his face smash into his chest. Armie smelled like expensive cologne. Chris could tell he was freshly showered. There were unfamiliar curves and contours with Armie. When he was with Jake, he knew exactly where he fit in, knew how to position himself to get the most contact against his own body. This was new. Armie didn't question the gesture, just let his own arms wrap around Chris, his good hand feeling the muscles in Chris' back, his face rubbing against the top of Chris' head.

 "Everything feels sort of lighter now," Chris said, his words muffled by Armie's T-shirt. "I can breathe."

 "I bet," Armie said quietly.

 "You parked in my driveway."

"Parking here sucks."

Chris shook his head. "Do you want to come inside?"

"No. I want to stay just like this." His voice was quiet. The air felt still and serene. He could hear crickets, feel everything around them settling in for the night.

"I want to sleep without setting an alarm," Chris whispered. "Can you even imagine what that's like?"

"It's been a while," Armie said. He started rocking them together. He could feel Chris' arms tightening around him, pulling their bodies closer. "Let's get inside. I've been waiting for you longer than I'd like to admit."

Chris peeled himself away, but didn't resist when Armie's hand slid down his arm and grasped his own. Slowly, the two of them approached the door and Chris unlocked it with a familiar ease. The lights turned on via motion sensor, Chris emptied his pockets into a tray he kept by the door. All the motions fluid, everything well practiced.

"I'll make us some tea," Chris said. He tapped out a quick message to Jake, letting him know that he'd arrived home. It was another habit that he'd probably never kick. He got a thumbs-up emoji and a heart in return.

They've kissed twice, Armie thinks. Once was long and drawn-out, Chris straddling his lap at the Chateau Marmont. The second time was in this very kitchen. Fleeting. It was enough to give a normal guy whiplash, but Armie knew what was going on. He was going through the same thing. He wondered if that's why Chris kept coming back to him.

Chris shuffled over, two mugs in his hands. He set them down and settled down on the couch, his head in Armie's lap. Then, he talked. After keeping his feelings in for so long, they seemed to spill out, bursting through every defense and Armie listened. He stroked Chris' hair and took it all in. For once, he had no clever responses.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're eating all of the almonds," Chris said, shaking the paper cone in his hand to find one or two more. Sebastian chuckled, tossing a warm, candied nut into his mouth as the two of them kept walking. The two of them were wandering the farmers' market, sunglasses shading them from the early morning sun. The city of Venice shut down a pedestrian-friendly stretch of Abbot Kinney Boulevard once a week for it. Chris gave up his quest for the prize and settled on cashews. Filler nuts.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about your new guy," Sebastian said as he examined a basket full of plums. He picked a few ripe ones before switching to peaches.

"He's not my 'guy,'" Chris said. He could feel his whole body tense.

"I saw him pacing right by your house," Sebastian said quickly, before Chris could interrupt again.

"We just talked. I fell asleep on the couch. We haven't seen each other since. He probably thinks I'm crazy."

"I just know some things he's done. He's known for breaking up relationships is all. You're my friend. You should know. He's also known for getting his way. A good-looking guy like that, he always gets what he wants, whether it's the girl -- the guy, this time, I guess -- or a role."

"Thanks," Chris said. He really meant it, too. It was the first time he'd ever heard anyone say something about Armie that wasn't glowing. Everyone had cracks in their veneer. Up until now, Chris was ignoring all of Armie's. He takes a seat at the fountain sitting at the market's center. Inside, there's a layer of pennies. Long-forgotten wishes. He fished for more nuts, his fingertips coated in sweet sugar and cinnamon. "I don't know if his intentions are what you think they are."

"He got the role," Chris said to nobody in particular. "I fought for it. I really did."

"I know," Sebastian said. 

"We haven't talked since."

"At least you didn't fuck," Sebastian said, trying to lighten things up. 

Chris sighed. "Way to drop it all on me."

"I could be wrong. I'm not saying he's completely bad. You spend time with him. You'd know."

"Why do I let myself get into situations like this? I honestly thought I was headed for a happy ending."

"You already had one, didn't you? I saw the pictures in 'Vogue.'"

"That wasn't a happy ending. It was the beginning of something else."

"The pictures looked good."

"Photoshop," Chris said flatly.

"Gotcha." Sebastian motioned towards a Sur la Table at the other end of the shopping center. "Let's stock up."

"Then I'll have no reason to bother you."

"You'll figure something out."

An hour and two armloads of kitchen essentials later, they were headed back to Chris' house. The walk was slow thanks to their shopping trip and Chris' reluctance to think about everything he'd gone through with Armie. Part of him wanted to forget what Sebastian had said, because there really was no way to tell, but he was glad for the information, too. The more you know, they always said. He wasn't ready to write Armie off entirely, but he was definitely putting his guard back up.

"Sorry to kill your buzz," Sebastian said as they unloaded everything in the kitchen. Chris pulled a beer out for Sebastian, even though they hadn't had lunch yet.

"Get your buzz started, then."

"Hey, I am in no place to say that you shouldn't keep going with him."

"You basically told me he was up to no good."

"He might be. But maybe he's not. Maybe you're the one that can change him."

"Isn't that what we all want? To be the one thing that can change bad behavior? It's like I'm in a Victorian novel."

"He and Jake did a movie together. Didn't he say anything?"

"I haven't mentioned it. When he was filming 'Nocturnal Animals,' I only visited once. Things were already starting to...we weren't good." Chris rubbed his eyes. It hurt. It hurt more than it should to think that Armie might have been using him.

"Don't be so dramatic. You always see the best in people, don't stop that now."

Two grilled cheese sandwiches later, Sebastian headed back across the canal and Chris had been wrestling with his thoughts while staring at the flowers Armie had sent him. They were huge blooms, the size of grapefruits. Fluffy and delicate, they oozed cheer and positivity. They were barely pink, a soft blush color that Chris knew was hard to find. Armie probably went through a lot of trouble to get this many. It was meant to impress, Chris thought. It was the perfect finishing touch to his long game. He leaned back in his chair and tapped the vase with his toe. It wobbled. The sun was starting its slow descent outside, casting long shadows across the house, especially up on the landing. Chris tapped the vase one more time, harder. It wobbled again and Chris held his breath watching it right itself. It didn't topple over, but the flower shook, silently bumping against each other. Chris rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He let out a long breath and wondered if the universe had it out for him.

Finding no solace in introspection, Chris did something he swore he'd never do. He sat down in front of his computer and pulled up the gossip sites. Armie's past would be laid out in their sensational headlines and intrusive photos. There was no hiding on the internet and Chris decided he was diving in head-first. Armie's golden-boy veneer had to be covering something up.

For every story that painted Armie as an old-money scion, there was another that dismissed him as nothing more than a pretty boy actor. His IMDb page was full of hits and misses. His romantic life wasn't all that interesting, only the fact that he met his now-ex-wife while she was still married. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing more than a blip. After researching and falling down countless rabbit holes, he was more lost than anything else. Chris wondered which rumors were true and which ones were just started to chip away at his good looks and privilege. Giving up, Chris shut his computer off with a huff. Some terrible news would have helped, but all he got was nonsense taken out of context. Armie liked knots. Armie liked bondage. Armie liked rough sex. It was all clickbait. Chris could feel the beginnings of a migraine.

A knock at his back door startled him out of his misery. Coming from that side, it could only be Sebastian. What Chris didn't expect, however, was meeting him at the back door and seeing him dressed in a suit. "You need me to tie your tie?" Chris asked as Sebastian walked past him, heading straight for the refrigerator. 

"Get dressed. I'm taking you out. Premiere."

"You really know how to make a guy feel special," Chris deadpanned. "I don't go to those anymore. PTSD."

"I'm not going to this one solo. So either you put on a suit or I'll order up pizza."

"Pepperoni's fine," Chris said, settling in on the sofa.

"Stop. You've got to cheer up. I know this isn't anyone's idea of a good time, but we can get In-N-Out after. Do it for me."

"It's too dangerous. I'll steal the spotlight from your movie and you'll hate me forever," Chris said sarcastically. "It's tough out there."

Protests aside, Sebastian managed to get Chris changed into a plain black suit and the two of them walked back to Sebastian's, where a car was waiting. "This is what girlfriends are for," Chris insisted. "Not neighbors."

"Girlfriends are good for plenty, but not when they're not around."

"I'm not sucking your dick," Chris said as the two got into the back of black SUV. "And I'm only doing this for a Double Double."

Halfway down the red carpet, Chris lost Sebastian. He had press to do, questions to answer and plenty of elbows to rub. Chris, on the other hand, didn't. He had stayed a few paces behind, but those grew to a few yards and suddenly, he was lost in a sea of publicists and assistants. With no phones allowed on the carpet and no way to squeeze through the unruly crowd, he stuck his hands in his pockets and tried his best to keep pace with the flow of people. Then, he felt it: A hand on his back and a familiar voice in his ear. "What are you doing here baby?"

His body moved automatically. A sidestep towards the voice, a straightening of his back and a deep, relaxing breath came without a thought. Jake even smelled the way he remembered. With that support, he went from lost to composed in a snap. "I'm here for a friend," Chris said, struggling to make sure that Jake could hear him over the fray. "You're not in this movie."

"I'm putting in some facetime for Universal."

"I was afraid I'd run into you," Chris said, reaching to hold Jake's hand. "And that we'd take attention away from Sebastian."

"Don't worry about that," Jake said. "You should be keeping your movie in the headlines."

"It's out of my hands now."

"Every time they mention you, they'll have to include it. That's how things work. You have to give them the old razzle-dazzle." With a practiced smoothness, Jake turned the two of them towards the pit of photographers and flashed a big smile. He wrapped his arm around Chris' waist and held him closer.

Chris reunited with his actual date a few minutes later, when he saw Sebastian waiting for him at the theater's main entrance. "For someone who hates these things, you handled that like a pro."

"I had some help," Chris said. "Are we going to get burgers now?"

"I don't break promises. But give me a little bit of time to do some interviews. 30 minutes, max."

"Am I supposed to watch the first half hour of your movie and just leave?"

"Sorry, man. I'll make it as quick as I can." Sebastian mouthed another apology as he was ushered away. 

"He seems nice." Jake was back at Chris' side, having completed the press line himself. 

"He's a good guy when he's not bribing me with the promise of fast food."

"Is that all it takes now?"

"Some shit happened earlier, he was trying to cheer me up but you in-demand actors always have stuff to do. My feelings come in second place."

Jake faked a pout. "There's no business like show business."

"Did you watch 'Chicago' today?"

"Did I hear you had 30 minutes?"

Back in the car, Chris rubbed at his face. He hoped that Sebastian wouldn't notice the pink flush of stubble burn. Straightening his tie, he checked to see that his shirt collar covered his neck properly. Nobody needed to see the damage that Jake's teeth had done to his neck. The two of them managed to sneak into an empty greenroom. Without the proper prep, however, their illicit activities couldn't progress beyond making out. It didn't seem like the right time to bring up Jake's experiences with Armie, either, so Chris pushed all that to the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on how Jake's tongue felt against his own and how the feel of Jake's muscles was still so familiar. He regretted that decision as soon as they rejoined the crowd. He'd try the next day. Phone calls were for talking. In person, seeing Jake dressed up, it would have been rude to deny him a quick trip to first base.

Chris watched as Sebastian pulled off his own tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and letting out a long breath. 

"Now it's time for fun. Sorry for abandoning you. Twice."

"I managed," Chris said as he watched the bright lights of the theater disappear behind them. "You're paying, though. You owe me that much."


	6. Chapter 6

"It's because I'm a creative," Chris said. "I am controlled my emotion, not logic."

"Does that really work on anyone?"

"No, because it's bullshit. I had to get away."

"Next time, let me know."

"Sorry," Chris grumbled. It was the first of many, many calls he had to return. His editor and publicist probably hated him at this point, but they knew what they had signed up for. He had told a few people, but to the rest of the world, he'd disappeared for almost a week. He'd spent the time in Santa Barbara, away from everything, phone included. It wasn't everyone's idea of paradise, but it was idyllic in its own way. 

Back in Venice, rifled through his junk mail and took stock of his surroundings. Thanks to Jake, reporters everywhere were trying to figure out if the golden couple was back together. And thanks to that fact, Armie was in the news, too. It was either a very small world or a very slow news week, Chris figured. It was, more likely, a combination of both. Now that he was back in the real world with a very bare-bones outline for a new short story, it was probably best that he face his real-world responsibilities. That, or he could watch Netflix. 

Sitting on his couch, Chris binged superhero shows while he responded to his emails. It was more efficient, he thought, to let everyone know he was fine with a cut-and-paste greeting. Impersonal as it may have been, it was fast. Even after talking to Jake about Armie -- he's a cool guy, Jake insisted; he's not as much of a douchebag as everyone thinks, he insisted -- he still wasn't sure what to do. Jake hadn't mentioned anything that Sebastian had brought up, but Chris didn't pry. It wasn't right to ask an ex about a romantic pursuit, if that was even what Armie was. Jake probably wouldn't have great things to say about anyone looking to take advantage of his ex. 

Chris did hear some not-so-flattering things from other people, however. Armie had gotten his role in "The Social Network" after gifting David Fincher a Porsche. Armie married his ex so he'd have access to another chunk of his trust fund. She divorced him because their not-so-secret open marriage wasn't fooling anyone. Armie slept with casting directors, he offered stays at his family's Cayman Islands estate to reporters to get cover stories and Chris even heard that his family bought chunks of Disney stock to get him an in with the company for two different movies. It was all hearsay, but just knowing it was out there meant that there had to be some truth to it, Chris thought. As competitive as the movie industry was, rumors had a way of growing from some sort of fact. Blue eyes and good looks could only get a person so far.

"How is your arm?" Chris had ignored every message Armie had sent for the past seven days, but he was diving right back in.

Instead of a message, Armie called immediately. "Call off the search party. The prodigal son has been found."

"Are you still wearing the sling?"

"I can if you want me to," Armie said, his voice dropping an octave. Chris could practically hear him grinning. 

"I was at a retreat," Chris said. "No phones. No email."

"You have a weird idea of a vacation. Can I come over? I've missed you."

"No. Give me your address. I'm coming over there."

"Is that so? Give a guy some warning."

"I'm serious. It's time we figure things out."

It took Chris over an hour to drive to Armie's mansion in Los Feliz. Traffic combined with the fact that they both lived in enclaves built far, far away from major freeways made the 25-mile trek seem like a cross-country road trip, especially since he drove through Chinatown, Koreatown, and Little Armenia. Thanks to his night of shame, Chris knew that Armie had a huge family home in Los Feliz. But when he arrived, he didn't expect the Regency-era architecture, the huge front yard, and the security gate. Jake's family had a much more modest midcentury home in the Hills. Chris thought that only oil barons lived in places like Armie's. Then, he remembered that Armie's great-grandfather actually was an oil baron. 

"This could all be yours," Armie said as he threw the front doors open. "Ours." He was wearing a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans and no shoes. Armie always knew how to show off. The sleeves accentuated his biceps. The jeans made him look even taller. 

"It's...something," Chris said, looking across the front of the house. There were huge windows going down both sides of the house. Everything was white and looked pristine. Chris wondered about the upkeep. It couldn't be cheap. It was at least five times bigger than Chris' two-bedroom Venice hideaway. Knowing that he basically got extorted out of his savings to buy it, he couldn't even imagine what a house like this would go for. Old money had its perks.

"I'm happy to see you," Armie said. He wanted to pull Chris into a hug, but wasn't quite sure what to do. "Sling's gone. I'm a brand-new man."

"I didn't mean to worry you," Chris said. "It was a whole off-the-grid, intensive writing thing." The lie was there, but the story was believable.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Can I come inside?"

"I'd like that," Armie said, recalling a similar exchange between the two. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Inside, Armie's house was very white. Instead of the contemporary steel and glass confines of Chris' own fishbowl, Armie lived in a fortress of marble and plaster. The floors gleamed. The walls were washed in a soft ivory. It looked like something out of "Town & Country." It was an updated version of what he grew up visiting, Armie explained. His ex-wife had been responsible for everything but the grill set up outside. 

Chris followed behind as Armie pointed out the different rooms, each one outfitted in inoffensive neutrals. Chris couldn't find anything that had personality. It was like walking through a nondescript photo shoot. Then, they arrived in the kitchen. From the doorway, Chris could see this is where Armie spent most of his time. It was more cluttered and lived-in. The attached family room and dining room looked worn-in, too. The TV was paused. Armie had been watching a documentary about sharks.

"Do I pass?" Armie asked as he handed Chris a bottle of mineral water.

"It's beautiful," Chris said.

"It's stuffy, but I don't spend a lot of time in most of it. I keep it up for my parents."

Chris stared out of the back door, watching the sparkling pool ripple with the early afternoon breeze. Armie's yard was surrounded by tall oleander and what looked like citrus trees. It was manicured but still homey. Armie's prized grill was to the right of the door. Chris felt Armie behind him, his hands rubbing at Chris' shoulders. When Chris didn't protest, Armie let his hands wander lower, down to Chris' sides, around the front to feel at Chris' abs. He could feel Chris leaning back against him, melting into the embrace.

"I thought a lot about us," Chris said. "About what you want."

Armie rubbed his face in Chris' hair, mumbling something nonsensical. "I hope this is good news."

"It's not bad news," Chris said, turning around. He let Armie push him against the glass and their lips met. Tongues sliding together, Chris let his eyes close. Armie tasted like toothpaste. 

"Can we keep going this time?"

Chris nodded, letting his fingers slide up under Armie's tight T-shirt. "But we should wait until after the movie for anything else."

"I can live with that," Armie said breathlessly. His kisses got deeper, more aggressive. Chris could feel Armie's hips rutting against his own. When Chris heard the sound of Armie's T-shirt hitting the floor, he felt his own defenses drop. The feel of skin and hair, the warmth and the sense of urgency; everything came together and he let himself feel. Armie's mouth moved lower, kissing at Chris' jaw and neck. Armie pulled Chris' shirt off, too, both of them groaning at the skin-on-skin contact.

Armie dropped to his knees, his hands undoing Chris' jeans and yanking them down along with his black briefs. Instantly, Chris' hands tangled in Armie's sandy hair. The heat of Armie's mouth came as a shock and Chris almost buckled in half. Armie's hand shot up to steady him. 

"Oh god," Chris groaned out, feeling Armie's tongue run up and down his cock. Armie slowly bobbed, his hands running over Chris' lean body, his hips and his legs. It was new and exciting and he'd thought about it almost every night, imagining how Chris would react, how he'd feel and taste. Now, it was all right here. Armie tugged softly at Chris' balls, bringing out a soft hiss and a whimper. Chris was breathing hard now, especially as Armie bobbed on his length, lips tight. 

Chris pulled Armie up, their lips connecting again. He struggled with Armie's jeans, but he was too clumsy to get them off. "Armie," Chris said, his voice dry and breathy. Armie shivered at the sound of his own name. "Bed. Bed, please. I'm going to fall over." Chris swore he felt his heart stop for a split second when Armie picked him up and walked a few paces to the sofa. It wasn't a bed, but it would do.

Armie let Chris pull him down, their bodies crashing together again. Hands were everywhere. Armie's jeans had managed to slide down, tangling his feet. He reached for them, but Chris' insistent kisses kept him from mustering up the ability to control his own hands. He bit his lip when Chris' hand wrapped around his cock, hoping to keep any unflattering sounds from escaping. After a few seconds of maneuvering, the jeans were off and Armie was straddling Chris' chest, watching his dick slide through Chris' lips. Their eyes locked together as Armie fucked Chris' mouth, feeling the slick heat on every inch as he struggled to control his thrusts. He let the sensations wash over his body, the ripples spreading from his dick to his back and up his spine, right to the tips of his fingers, which were gripping Chris' skull.

Every sensation was magnified. The wet, slurping sounds and Chris' soft grunts filled the air and the feel of each others' hands. Chris felt his whole body tingle. Armie buried his cock as deep as it would go, holding his dick in Chris' throat and almost cumming right then. He pulled out and kissed Chris again, reaching down to stroke their dicks together. He tried to get away from the edge, but his body seemed to be taking over.

"We need lube," Chris whispered, his hands feeling the cords of Armie's shoulders, his thumbs tracing his beard as they kissed. The toothpaste flavor had gone away. It was raw now. 

"Upstairs," Armie managed to croak out. "You were right. We need a bed."

Armie got up off the couch, offering a hand. Chris couldn't believe his luck. Light streamed in from behind Armie, highlighting every contour and making his hair practically glow. Chris couldn't move. Armie reached down and pulled Chris up, bringing them together again into another deep kiss. Chris kissed at Armie's chest, his biceps and his shoulders. It was so new and novel. He wanted to explore, but his body ached for intimacy, not familiarity.

Stumbling upstairs, stealing kisses and touches with just about every step, Chris let Armie lower him down onto the thick duvet. It puffed up around him and the laughed softly. "I didn't think this would actually happen," Armie admitted, nipping at Chris' collarbone. "I wished for it, but I never thought..."

Chris interrupted that line of thought with a firm tug on Armie's dick and felt a harder bite on his neck. Lube-slicked fingers slid into him, making his breath catch in his throat. "Is that okay?"

Nodding, Chris buried his face in the crook of Armie's neck. Sweat. He tasted sweat. Armie's fingers twisted and scissored, working his hole open as Chris stroked their dicks, feeling his own cock throb against Armie's doing his best to ignore the white-hot heat that was pulsing through. He felt Armie shift and shut his eyes as his legs spread wider, instinctively heading up to Armie's shoulders. Then, he arched his back, gripping the blanket in his hands and clenching his jaw tight as he felt Armie push into him. Both of them groaned despite the effort to keep it back, Chris' body yielding as inch after inch of Armie sunk in. Hips rocking, he felt the tightness grip him, the velvety squeeze enveloping him.

Chris shuddered with every forward thrust, Armie's dick raking across his prostate. Chris' toes curled and he threw his head back as far as he could with the loft of the blanket under him. His body arched more, making way for Armie's intrusion. He could hear his own name, almost inaudible, falling from Chris' lips over and over. Armie let Chris' legs fall and wrap around his waist, watching Chris' muscles tense. Armie thrust again and again, watching Chris' body react. He was rapt, seeing each move create so many more. Chris pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, drowning his own whimpers out with Armie's grunts.

Chris rolled the two of them over, sinking that much deeper and feeling the blunt head of Armie's dick reach past its previous mark. "You look incredible," Armie managed to say, watching the languid roll of Chris' hips and the bounce of his cock as he moved. Chris didn't respond, his head cloudy. Instead, he leaned down and licked at Armie's lips, capturing his tongue in another wet kiss. Armie's hips thrust up despite his brain's protests. He wanted to last, but the both of them were racing towards orgasm, barreling forward. Armie grasped at Chris' hips, his fingers sure to leave bruises, his knuckles white as he grit his teeth and fucked up into the tightness, his balls rising, his breath quickening and both of their bodies gleaming with a sheen of sweat. "I can't last," Armie whispered. 

Nodding, Chris ground his hips down, grunting at the sensation. He licked and kissed at Armie's chest. Armie's unloaded with a loud groan, holding Chris down on him, both of them freezing in the moment. Chris felt the warmth inside of him, felt Armie tense and relax with each throbbing shot, felt Armie hand stroking and squeezing his own dripping cock. He shuddered and locked their lips together. He thrust into Armie's grip, inadvertently fucking himself on Armie's softening cock. It only took a few strokes. He painted Armie's hairy abs with his own load and steadied himself with a hand on Armie's shoulder.

"Chris," Armie whispered, his lips grazing Chris' ear. 

Chris shook his head, settling in against Armie. He couldn't speak, not as he was taking in the scent of Armie's skin and the watching his chest hair sway every time he exhaled. Armie's hands traced up and down along Chris' spine and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

The sizzle of Cajun-spiced salmon ripped through the calm of the night. By the time they'd managed to get back to their clothes downstairs, night had blanketed Los Angeles in blues and purples and Armie had sucked one more load out of Chris. 

Pulled up to his chest, Chris half-closed his eyes and felt the cool air on his bare back as he watched Armie cook. On his own insistence, he was wearing Chris' briefs. They were a size too small, but he wasn't deterred. 

Intimacy had turned into domesticity very quickly, but Chris' stomach wasn't going to argue if Armie insisted on feeding it.

"It's nice, right?"

"It's more than just 'nice.' So much more." Chris didn't know if his scantily clad companion was referring to the house, the present situation, or the thought of being together. 

"Tell me about what you wrote."

"What?" Chris' brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what Armie was asking about. He waded through the murk of his brain and came up short. "Same old stories," he said unconvincingly. "Meditations on life and socio-economic disparities. War. Famine. Conspiracies." Now he was just spouting out words that vaguely reminded him of NPR.

"I read this story in the 'New Yorker' about a deaf person who played piano. He felt the vibrations. It was muscle memory. I can't remember."

"Stop."

Armie smiled and tossed a handful of Brussels sprouts into a pan and tossed them a few times. He set the cast iron onto the grill, right by the fish. "But at the end, we found out that it was all in his head. Childhood trauma with his parents made him think he was deaf. It was a stress thing."

"That sounds like a fever dream."

"Was it?"

"No, I wrote that story on a plane. I saw a kid practicing piano on his tray table. No sheet music, no actual piano, no headphones."

"And you got a whole story from that?"

"Can't turn off my brain," Chris said, leaning back. For this one moment, while he was sitting with his prince charming in a castle on the hill, Chris wished that he could.


	7. Chapter 7

With an evening of being designer arm candy and another sheltered from the real world in what may very well have been a castle built with Disney money, Chris crashed back to the real world. He met Sebastian for post-run green juice like any self-respecting Californian. He wrote. He edited and wrote some more. He took baby steps away from the movie production, only coming in when they absolutely needed him. A tiny rewrite. A question about the costumes another day. Some soundtrack options in a quick videoconference. 

He made a point of not going on set, not even getting a copy of the shooting schedule, which would include some travel for the whole crew. He managed to stay out of it all. That deserved a commendation.

"You seem really good," Sebastian mentioned over coffee one morning. "Something must be going right."

Chris shrugged, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose. "Nothing's going wrong. Is that the same?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I'm happy for you, man. Whatever's happening."

"General self-care. Eating healthy. Running with you. Drinking lots of water."

"You told me you didn't know how to relax, but you seem to be doing just fine."

"We should go to Disneyland," Chris said abruptly, eager to switch the conversation to something a little lighter. "Can you get us in for free?"

"No. But I can clear my schedule."

"I haven't been in so long." Chris was smiling from ear-to-ear at the mere thought of it, long lines and all. "Let me know when you can go. I'm free. I can drive. We can even stay down in Anaheim if you want." Chris' words were shooting out so fast, Sebastian could barely understand them. 

"I'm free," Sebastian responded, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of excitement. "Just calm down."

As much as Chris wanted to go to Disneyland, the first day they'd chosen ended up being a rainy one. So, instead of eating churros and riding Pirates of the Caribbean, Chris wondered if it was okay to feed ducks leftover quinoa as he watched a couple of mallards swim down the canal. Nothing ruined plans like impromptu rain, especially since it happened so rarely in Southern California. Who had the foresight to check the weather when it was sunny just about every single day? He wondered if Jake would take offense to the idea of coming over just to cuddle. The rain called for it. 

Armie wouldn't object, but Chris was keeping him at arm's length for now. When the movie wrapped, he'd consider it. Chris even played with the idea of keeping things at a low simmer with Armie until he'd finished promoting the movie, too. Better safe than sorry -- Chris was still wrestling with the idea of being in another relationship that involved awards shows, movie premieres and waiting in the greenroom of "The Late Late Show." Normalcy didn't come with dating an actor or anyone in the entertainment industry, but part of him hoped that he could be the normalcy that actors always said they wanted.

The day they rescheduled, Sebastian's agent called and he had to rush to an audition. Chris wasn't about to stand in the way of that--and neither was Mickey Mouse. And when the third day fell through, too, they both stopped trying to sync their calendars. 

"You're in a good mood," Jake said, settling in on one of the stools in Chris' kitchen. Without having to ask, Chris was already rummaging for everything to make coffee for the two of them. After Disneyland seemed like nothing more than an actual fantasy, Chris dug through his email and realized he had one more looming deadline. But it involved Jake, which made things both harder and easier. 

"Just keeping on," Chris said, arranging two pour-over cones over their respective mugs. He'd seen the process so many times in coffee shops and done it himself just as many. He could do it in his sleep. He often did it half-asleep. "I need your help," he finally said, his eyes focused on the process even though his words were directed at Jake.

Jake had dropped everything as soon as Chris called. He had a full day, but it didn't matter. It was a relief, really. He needed a break. "You've got me."

"It's not that exciting," Chris said, still concentrating on pouring hot water over the coffee grounds. Satisfied with his spiral, he watched, rapt, as the water slowly dripped through. "But I need you for a whole day. Or the studio does, I guess. I can be there if you want."

Jake's mouth formed an O as he nodded. He gears in his head whirred around and he remembered the process. If any one of Chris' books became popular enough, they'd be optioned for an audiobook. That's where he came in. Jake had done the readings for every single one. Divorce and all, it looked like that wasn't about to change. 

"Anything for you. I mean that."

Chris smiled, handing him the warm mug of black coffee. "I have a new agent at Penguin, his name is David, because they moved me to a different imprint, but it should be the same as last time. I can send you the info. Or we can go together."

"Whatever works," Jake said. He'd always considered it an honor and a privilege to take on the task of narrating all of Chris' work. It may have seemed like such a minor thing to so many people, but it was one thing that only Jake had done for Chris. "I can fit it in."

Chris sat down on another stool and rested his head on Jake's shoulder. "It's sort-of short, so maybe it won't even take all day."

"I'll keep my voice rested," Jake said, running his nose through Chris' hair. While they were together, he kept it combed back, but these days, he kept it looser, chopping it short. It felt new against Jake's face.

"Does my agent need to call yours? Is this an official business transaction?"

"It's a favor," Jake said. "I'll take care of all that. I don't want you worrying about it. You couldn't afford me, anyway."

"I can be very convincing," Chris said. "I used to get you to agree to things all the time."

"That's what being married is about," Jake said, chuckling. "Compromise."

"Thank you for letting me think that I wielded some sort of power, then."

"This is good coffee." Jake kissed Chris' forehead softly.

"I do have one more thing to ask you," Chris said, bolting upright. "I completely forgot."

Jake simply raised an eyebrow and took a long sip.

"What do you know about Armie Hammer?"

That night, as Chris tried his best to tackle Ancho-Orange Chicken with Kale Rice and Roasted Carrots, he mulled over everything Jake had told him. Entitled. Self-absorbed. Difficult to work with when he was hungry. Size 14 feet that gave the wardrobe department a lot of trouble -- not that Chris wasn't all of those things, too, aside from the big shoes. Jake wasn't a saint, either. But having someone else confirm some of the things he'd read during that shameful night of combing TMZ seemed to hit close to home and heart alike. Maybe Armie's mix of startling good looks -- Chris recalled literally losing his breath just looking at the guy -- and overeager need to please everyone mixed with his pedigree rubbed everyone the wrong way. Distracted by his own wandering mind, he burned the chicken.

"Hey," he texted Sebastian. "Want to order some pizza?"

Jake was true to his word and scheduling a recording session was no problem at all. About a week later, Jake's car rolled into Chris' driveway and the two of them drove to the studio together. Already familiar with the book, Jake asked for some hot tea and went right into the studio's padded booth. Chris watched as Jake took a seat and read. Chris closed his eyes and just listened to the words. They were his, but hearing Jake's interpretation of the story was fascinating and slightly uncomfortable. There were parts of the book he couldn't bear to listen to, but that's what the mute button was for. He used it liberally.

There were tiny inflections that only came along with a close, intimate familiarity with the work. Jake was gesturing with his hands, even though nobody would be able to see it. Chris could hear it, though, as strange as that idea was. Chris didn't know if Jake was performing for him or just so deep into the process that he didn't know what he was doing. Chris glanced back at the technician working the booth, noting that he looked very, very bored. 

"How was that?" Jake asked. He'd finished the entire book one time through and it was already well into the afternoon. He still had to reread a few passages and work on some of the dialogue.

"Amazing. Nobody else can do it like you do."

Jake smiled, pulling Chris into a hug. "We'll get this done before dinner."

"You should save your voice," Chris said, his hands sliding down Jake's arms. His fingers traced over Jake's and they held hands loosely.

"I just need dinner, not a vow of silence."

"I ordered food."

Jake kicked his feet up on the rectangular coffee table that was set up just outside the booth and set the takeout on his lap. Chris sat on the opposite side of the table, but he wasn't getting quite as comfortable as Jake. "We should have tried harder," Jake said. "I miss you a lot."

The sudden confession surprised Chris. "It did seem sudden from my end," Chris said, his voice low.

"It was too fast. It all moved too fast," Jake said, pushing his salad around. Chris was looking right at him, but Jake's eyes were turned down to his food. 

"Why is this coming up now?"

Jake didn't respond. He'd just shoved a forkful of greens into his mouth.

"Is this because I asked you about Armie?"

"It's not that. I didn't know that seeing you with him or with anyone would make me feel like this. I'm not jealous. It's something else with it."

It was Chris' turn to sit in awkward silence. "Things like this probably don't help."

"Kissing you doesn't help. I thought...I didn't know what I thought would happen. It's harder than I expected."

"You really hurt me," Chris said before adding, "I think we really hurt each other."

Jake sighed. "Your book is getting into my head. I lived it already."

Chris doubted that, but if Jake wanted a scapegoat, he'd allow it. If Jake expected him to come back, it wouldn't be with something as easy as a favor and one confession. "Do you think that someone will come along to make you forget all about me?"

"Never," Jake said without hesitation. "But nobody will ever break my heart the way you did, either."

During the second part of recording, which ended up focusing on dialogue, Chris had to shut off the audio feed. He couldn't listen to it, especially since so much of the dialogue was pulled straight from conversations that the two of them had. Chris didn't know if Jake could tell, but hearing the emotion in his voice gave Chris reason to believe that he knew exactly where those words came from.

The drive home was in near-silence, but Jake held Chris' hand over the gearshift the whole time. When they arrived back at Chris' house, there was nothing more than a simple thank you between them. Chris watched as Jake drove off and gave him a weak wave, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time that they'd ever see each other. If it was, he wouldn't' be able to live with himself.

Chris wouldn't call the recording session disastrous, but even with his expansive and colorful vocabulary, he couldn't figure out any other way to describe it. Thinking about it hurt his heart and his brain in equal measure. At the beginning of the day, Chris had hoped that they'd spend the evening together. But now, as Jake drove off and Chris stepped into his empty house, he saw how foolish that idea had been. He shut the door and leaned against it, letting his body slide down, down until he sat down on the floor, his legs splaying out in front of him. With a long sigh, Chris let the tears fall from his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

"I've never had someone be such a gentleman," Chris said, sunglasses covering his puffy, red eyes. The emotions had spilled out of him. After holding them back and having Jake poke holes in the barriers he'd built, he was a wreck. For the next few days, he couldn't concentrate, he couldn't figure out whether or not to talk to Jake at all and, most of all, he didn't know if moving forward with his mission to start something with Armie was such a great idea anymore. "Jake pursued me. We were like two people barreling at each other. It happened so fast."

Sebastian noticed Chris' fingers fidgeting on the table and his toe tapping at the pavement. They were at a coffee shop just a few steps away from the beach, catching their breath after a run and hoping that the caffeine would be enough to replenish their energy. It wasn't working. 

"I told Armie to put everything on hold until he was done with the movie and all he's done is text me to tell me how the production is going. Jake would wait at Starbucks for me."

Sebastian raised his eyebrow. "Sounds weird."

"It wasn't in a creepy way."

"Maybe a little creepy."

"I wanted to call Armie and just have him come over. I was going crazy. I was a mess. I wanted to call Jake. I wanted to call you, but I would have been hysterical."

"What did you end up doing?"

"I ran, like, 10 miles. I exhausted myself so that I could just sleep and forget about it all."

"Yikes," Sebastian said, physically recoiling at the thought. He'd never seen Chris as anything but even-keeled. It was strange to see him struggle with anything like this.

"I'm better now. It's a new day."

"Your problems are out of my league. Way out of my league."

"Stop. I know that you're going through some problems yourself."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to go after you. Ever. I'm not touching that."

Chris rolled his eyes. "How are you getting through it?"

"I'm not thinking about it," Sebastian explained. "We've been on-and-off for a while. We just grew apart."

"Are you upset about it?"

"Nobody likes breakups. I'm sure that we weren't going to work out in the long run, anyway. It was just a matter of time."

"Sorry to hear that."

Sebastian shrugged. "I know a breakfast burrito place in Manhattan Beach. Should we reconvene this meeting of the Broken Hearts Club there?"

Chris felt lighter after the impromptu breakfast meeting. He wasn't any closer to calling either Armie or Jake, but at least he'd managed to talk about it. Baby steps, he thought, even pushing all of the things that Sebastian told him about Armie out of his mind. If he was subscribing to the principles outlined in the Sebastian Stan School of Romance and Relationships, Chris and Jake had run their course. Several times, in fact. Chris couldn't imagine going through that all over again. Armie was fresh and new, but the idea of starting over was just as daunting. Was he ready to have a brand-new person discover that he hated cauliflower and liked extra foam on his lattes? Jake said his idiosyncrasies were cute. It was possible -- and likely -- that other guys would find them more annoying than anything else.

"It's so good to see you," Armie said as he walked towards Chris. It was almost a skip, Chris noticed, and Armie's smile was huge. After his impromptu breakfast therapy session, Chris had messaged him, suggesting that they meet. Armie suggested Downtown L.A., the Arts District, specifically. It wasn't a neighborhood Chris went often, but he could sense the enthusiasm in Armie's texts. It was the same energy he was feeling right now. Armie scooped Chris up into a hug and he hoped that, somehow, he could absorb that glowing positivity.

"I missed you," Chris said.

"I can't even tell you how much I missed you." Armie kept his arms around Chris, taking his time and feeling Chris' back, nuzzling his temple softly. "You smell good. You feel good."

Chris peeled himself out of Armie's embrace, doing his best to make it seem like a natural uncoupling and not a choreographed squirm, which is exactly what it felt like. Armie must have his stylist choose everything in his closet, Chris thought. His jeans made him look lean and long, his shirt accentuated his chest and his biceps perfectly. Chris kept his hands in his pockets as they walked, even when Armie's hand reached out and grazed his wrist, beckoning for a touch, for any sort of contact.

"Dailies look good," Chris said, "I watch them sometimes."

"I didn't think you did at all," Armie said, a sudden pang of nervous energy hitting his stomach at the thought of Chris seeing his work. It didn't make any sense, since, of course, Chris would see it eventually, but Armie always was too critical of himself. "I want to show you something."

"Oh," Chris started. "Did you read about that new cafe, too?"

"No," Armie said, shaking his head. "Not that."

Chris' eyebrows popped up over his sunglasses and he followed Armie's lead. They walked down the street, passing old buildings that had been transformed into lofts, past restored theaters and new, trendy boutiques. Chris had read about the downtown renaissance, but hadn't actually seen it. He was glad to see the old architecture being painstakingly reinvigorated, but part of him was sad to see that it was so Urban Outfitters and Starbucks could have new digs. Armie stopped and put his arm around Chris' shoulder. They were in front of a liquor store advertising this week's Powerball jackpot. 

"This is cool," Chris said. "I was serious about those beers in my refrigerator. They're for my friends."

"I believe you."

"I have a will of iron," Chris insisted. "I've handled your charm and charisma pretty well, I think."

"Well, I'm breaking down that willpower a little, I hope." Armie pointed to a building across the street. It was an Art Deco masterpiece, with ornate trim around all the windows and a grand entrance with square columns and a round emblem over the door. Currently, it housed a Bank of America on the first floor. Chris couldn't tell what was up above. Today, downtown's skyscrapers dwarfed it, but back in the day, Chris was sure it was one of the tallest buildings around. "My great-grandfather built that. He paid for it to be built, at least. My family had it restored."

"You and your ex?"

"No, not my actual immediate family," Armie said quickly. "We have a trust. People make sure things stay pretty. Anything related to the family name."

"I'm familiar with the Hammer family," Chris replied. "I know that your great-grandfather's art is in the Hammer Museum at UCLA and all. I did some underwriting there a while back." Chris didn't mention that it was Jake's family that actually did it. He was just part of that family when it happened, so his name was attached to it, too. The thought of moving from one Hollywood dynasty to another made Chris cringe. He wanted out of the circus, not to get even deeper into it. At least his parents weren't actually in the entertainment business. Chris could only remember that they were involved in actual business.

"I know," Armie said. "I told you that I know more about you than you think."

Chris cringed at the thought. He wondered what Armie dug up on TMZ. "It's a really beautiful building."

"It was used for all his West Coast business dealings," Armie said. "But I'm sure there was some shady business going on, too."

"The Hammers have some dirt under the rugs?"

"What family doesn't?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm pretty boring on that front."

"Sometimes it's tough to live up to the expectations that come with family history," Armie said. "But I know that what you expect of yourself is pretty up there, too."

"Nobody wants to fail," Chris said. "Nobody puts something out in the world and doesn't want it to succeed. Your grandpa built that and I'm sure that if he was still alive, he'd be happy to know it was still standing."

"Great-grandpa."

"Heavy is the Hammer head that wears the crown," Chris said matter-of-factly.

"You don't take shit from anyone, do you?"

"I did. But I won't anymore. Listen, I appreciate the architecture walk, but I did want to actually talk to you about us. About what's going on."

"Let's get some coffee then," Armie said. "You're in a better mood when you're caffeinated."

A quick walk and two cappuccinos ordered, Chris and Armie sat across from each other at a too-hip cafe nestled between the designer stores that Chris noticed earlier. It looked Scandinavian in design, with clean lines, blond wood and plenty of white paint, but the coffee was from Africa and South America and strictly prepared according to Japanese methods. Chris and Armie agreed it was a weird combination of choices, but being that it was the only spot they could find, the shop had a monopoly over anyone who needed to refuel. 

"Are you breaking up with me?" Armie asked as soon as they sat down. Chris looked at his puppy dog eyes and pouty lips before rolling his eyes. 

"I really appreciate you letting me take things slow," Chris said, ignoring the question.

"It's not easy for me. Is it easy for you? I want to call you and talk and be with you."

"I think about that, too," Chris said. "But it's better to wait until everything's done. I don't want to distract you or have this relationship be why people talk about the movie. You're better than that."

"That doesn't mean we can't see each other."

"No, it doesn't. You're right. I just want...need you to know where I stand on us. It's emotionally challenging."

"I've never heard anyone describe a relationship as 'emotionally challenging.'"

"I enjoy your company," Chris said. "And I want to continue to see you. You are welcome to come over any time you want. But I need you to understand that I want this film to get attention for the right reasons. It's a big deal to me. There are enough people who are going to say it's about me and Jake."

"Is it?"

"It's complicated."

"He didn't talk about you on set. At all. I asked about you. You guys were the golden couple, after all. He wasn't the easiest guy to buddy up to."

"Jake is a different person when he's on set. He's different when he's working," Chris' words were slow and deliberate. "It was hard. I was going to visit the set but he told me not to. He wasn't in the right headspace. I could usually get him to relax though."

"I saw him naked. Made sure I was on set for that shower scene."

"Checking out the competition?"

"I might have been a little curious. My wife wanted to know, actually."

"You can't really judge when it's soft."

Armie shrugged. "I've seen better."

"I haven't."

"Ouch," Armie said, smiling as he shook his head slowly. "You...You're something, Christopher Lewis. Can I kiss you?"

"That'd be a hard no."

"Can't blame a guy."

"Come over tonight and I'll kiss you. I'll kiss you anywhere you want."

Chris was true to his word. A few hours later, he was straddling Armie's lap and kissing him square on the lips. They were up on the landing, sitting on the stairs, impatience winning out before they could even get to Chris' bed. 

"You look amazing," Armie said breathlessly, his hands taking in everything they could: Chris' back, his shoulders, and his sides. Chris' hands were planted firmly on either side of Armie's head, their tongues sliding together, chests pressed so close that Chris could feel Armie's heartbeat. "The light up here is so great." There wasn't much sunlight left, but the darkness coupled with the grey moonlight made everything seem almost unreal.

"Stop talking," Chris whispered, his lips moving to Armie's neck and shoulders. Chris had thought about their night together ever since it happened, how Armie's body, all long limbs and lean muscle covered with sandy hair, felt and how it made him feel. 

Chris pushed at Armie's chest, urging him to lay back on the floor. He complied, scooting both of their bodies up off the stairs onto a more secure spot with an ease that surprised Chris, even as his lips were making their way down Armie's chest and stomach. Armie's fingers tangled in Chris' hair, his entire body tingling at the mere sound of Chris undoing his pants, the soft rustle of the denim sliding down his legs. Chris' warm mouth around his cockhead, still behind the cotton of his underwear, sent a second wave up his spine. He could feel his ears flushing red. 

Armie's toes curled when he felt Chris' tongue on him, his own groans and grunts joining the almost-vulgar, slick sounds of Chris' mouth working his dick. Armie bit at his bottom lip to keep from getting too loud. Hearing the sounds coming from below his waist was too good. Eyes rolling back in his head, he felt hands on his stomach, kisses on his inner thighs, soft licks at his balls. Chris was working every part of him, making fireworks going off in his head. Armie pulled Chris up, their mouths crashing together. Armie could taste salt and feel Chris' soft whimpers in his mouth as Armie's huge hand wrapped around their cocks, stroking them with a loose grip. 

"Armie," Chris whispered, his voice shaky. He was licking and kissing at Armie's neck, feeling the ticklish scratches of Armie's beard against his face. He ground his hips down against Armie's hand, needing more than a lazy handjob. Chris bit down on Armie's collarbone when he felt a finger slide into him, lubed by nothing but the precum that they'd both been oozing. Armie's fingers were long and as he crooked it and slid a second one in, both circling insistently at Chris' prostate, Chris nearly blacked out. "Oh god," Chris groaned out, incapable of holding in anything as his ring pulsed around Armie's fingers, his dick let out a huge glob of precum and Chris felt his entire body shiver. Armie's other hand was on his back, holding him steady as he rode out the waves.

"We need to get you lubed up," Armie said. Even though it was nothing above a whisper, the sound seemed to echo through the entire house. "C'mon, Chris," he said as his fingers slipped out.

He either ignored it entirely or he had other plans, because Chris dove back down to Armie's dick, taking it as deep as he could, his nose buried in the unkempt blond bush at the base. Armie groaned again, his hands shooting out to his sides, steadying himself as his hips rolled up into the tight warmth of Chris' throat. A sudden tug at his balls was all it took. He bucked his hips up and grabbed Chris' hair, jet after jet of cum shooting straight down Chris' throat. Chris did his best to stay still but his reflexes forced him to bob a few times, partly to get some air and partly to taste Armie's load. 

"God, I didn't mean to shoot off," Armie said, his breathing short and his whole chest blooming with a pinky blush. Chris kissed up his stomach and nipped at his neck softly sucking as he stroked Armie's softening dick. 

"I'm going to wear you out," Chris said against Armie's sweaty skin. "I don't care how many times you shoot, just keep going."

Armie rolled the two of them over, almost growling at the thought. "I'm getting you to that bed," he said before kissing Chris again. Armie pulled Chris by the hand, bounding toward the dark bedroom. Chris found himself on his back in a second, the dense fluff of his comforter exploding around him. Armie pushed Chris' legs up and tongue replaced fingers inside Chris' ass. 

Chris gasped at the initial penetration; Armie's tongue circling his hole and dipping inside tentatively. His eyes shut tight, Chris focused on the feel of Armie's facial hair on the most sensitive part of his body, the way he grunted every time Chris' legs moved a little too much. Being bent in half, Chris couldn't see anything -- and the darkness of the room wasn't helping -- but he could feel everything. He heard Armie knocking around in the night table, but his tongue didn't let up. The rimjob continued as Armie slicked himself and Chris didn't even have time to adjust to being on his back again before Armie pushed inside him. One smooth, long thrust and Chris was gasping for air, gripping at the duvet and clamping down on Armie's thick cock.

"Shh," Armie tried his best to soothe the burn that was spreading through Chris' whole body. He rocked his hips, their mouths barely touching as Chris whimpered under him. "You feel so good."

He watched Chris' face with every thrust. The pained tension melted away after a few thrusts and Chris' hands moved to grip at his own forearms before moving up to his biceps. He watched as Chris' neck tensed with each one of his inward thrusts, his chest and stomach flexing every time he pulled out. Armie kissed at Chris' jaw, went harder and faster when Chris' fingertips dug into his shoulders. He reached for Chris' leaking cock, stroking it to match his own movements, but Chris' hand darted out to grab his wrist. He shook his head, but Armie kept up his movements. Chris' hole was fluttering around his shaft, he could tell that it wouldn't take much more. Armie wrapped his arms around Chris' back and muffled his own grunts into Chris' neck, his hips jerked forward, pounding into Chris' ass and sending the sound of skin-on-skin contact into the room along with their loud groans. 

"Armie, Armie," Chris said the name over and over as he shot, spraying between their heaving bodies. His ass ached, but the last thing he wanted was for Armie to stop. He'd missed the stretch and the fullness.

Armie held Chris' hands tight, bringing them up over his head as they kissed. He stilled his hips, not sure if he should keep drilling Chris post-orgasm. Chris' legs tightened around his waist, however, and he took that as a sign to keep it up. Chris' hole felt even tighter on him and he thrust in harder, aiming each one right at Chris' prostate.

"Don't stop," Chris said, his voice bordering on begging. "Don't stop. Don't. Ever. Stop."

Chris squeezed around Armie's dick and was rewarded with another onslaught of deep, long strokes. He remembered his promise to Armie, but it looked like Chris would get worn out first. The kisses were helping. Dizzy after his orgasm and Armie's continued jabs at his prostate, Chris hoped for a second wind. He tried to wring his hands free from Armie's grip, but the more he tried, the harder Armie's grasp felt. The harder his hips went. Chris tried his best, but it wasn't until Armie bit down hard on his neck and let his second orgasm course through him that Chris managed to get loose. Chris felt Armie go slack on top of him. Even though his hands throbbed, he felt Armie's back, both of them taking shallow breaths as they tried to come back down to earth.

A quick gasp fell from Chris' lips when he felt Armie push forward, his cock going that much deeper. 

"I'm not stopping."


	9. Chapter 9

Armie carefully moved a stack of books from the kitchen island to the coffee table. Then, he moved them back. "Hey, what are these doing here?" he finally asked. 

Chris popped his head out from the refrigerator and looked over his shoulder, "They're for Jake. His sister gave them to me when I went to New York." 

Like it always did, Armie's fist clenched at the mention of Jake. It lasted for less than a second and he was sure that Chris never even noticed, but like a reflex, it was there. Chris had come back just the day before and Armie just about dropped everything to rush over to the house. He was tired. The movie was wrapped, but there were some reshoots to do. They were all at night.

"I watered your plant for you."

"It's a cactus. It would have survived."

Armie justified the hour-long commute by telling himself that he was looking after Chris' house. It didn't have the complicated security system his own place did. Armie tried his best to convince Chris to install a system that would let him turn the lights on and off from his phone and to let him watch live camera feeds, but Chris just brushed him off. "I have a deadbolt," he'd said.

"You weren't being creepy and sleeping in my bed or anything while I was gone, right?" Chris asked. His latest food delivery box was put away and would stay that way. When Armie was around, he either cooked freestyle or the two of them went out. 

"I just put all your clothes on and cried," Armie said, his eyes turned towards the back doors and the canal. "I have to be back on set later. I want you to be there."

Chris leaned against the counter, "Why? Isn't it just one or two scenes?"

"It would help me. I'm serious. I want you to be there."

The request was odd, but Chris could tell that Armie had been holding it in for a while. It was selfish of him not to do something so simple, he figured. But he couldn't shrug off the feeling of being blindsided. "Sure," Chris said. Before he could even second-guess his decision, Armie rushed over him and pulled him into a hug.

Chris didn't know what normal domesticity was like, but it seemed like he'd only ever experience a unique kind of lifestyle that involved late-night reshoots and shaking hands with gaffers, sound engineers, and camera people. This was only the second time he'd ever come on set, but he was sure that the entire crew knew who he was. He wasn't sure if they knew the situation between Armie and himself. He remembered all the times he'd been on set with Jake, watching everything through a computer screen instead of seeing it play out in real life. It's what everyone did, since the computer framed everything like it would be on the movie screen. This time around, Chris would focus on the performance in front of him, instead. Let everyone else crowd around the screen.

Armie was already in the wardrobe trailer. Instead of waiting around, Chris wandered the location, which was really just a public park in Burbank. In the movie, it would be a nondescript part of San Francisco. 

"We're all really happy with how this is turning out," Jean-Marc said as soon as he spotted Chris heading towards him. "We should wrap tomorrow."

"That's really good to hear," Chris said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "The dailies look great. It's like a dream. Everything looks so perfect."

Jean-Marc smiled through his own fatigue. "Perfection is unattainable. We're getting close though."

"Are you a movie director or a philosopher?"

"What day of the week is it?" 

Chris smiled as Jean-Marc gave his shoulder a hearty squeeze. "Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure."

Chris wandered a few paces away, keeping himself on the periphery of the roped-off area. It was cold, dark and, thanks to the water they'd sprayed everywhere so that the grass shimmered in the artificial moonlight, damp. Pre-movie magic, it didn't have the cinematic quality that he knew would get added in post-production. Now, it just looked messy, especially with the whole crew buzzing around. He noticed the commotion finally coming together and he headed towards the bright lights, still doing his best to stay out of everyone's way. He didn't know if Armie knew where he was, but Jean-Marc looked ready to call the scene, so it was too late. Armie had been running his lines in the car, so Chris knew what scene they were doing. But he'd been focusing on the actual words, not really delivering them with any sort of intention or inflection. Actual filming would be different.

As he walked closer to the actual filming, everything started coming into focus. The real world seemed to fade away and he heard the words from his book being spoken aloud. Everything felt magnified, from the rustle of the leaves in the trees to the colors around him. The world seemed to glow around Chris and he got even closer, his eyes narrowing as he tried to catch every detail. He could hear Armie, hear the argument he was having with Gael. He could see them gesticulating, see them just like he saw in his head. It was surreal.

A dog barking broke Chris from his reverie. As much as they could control the environment, they couldn't control everything happening in the rest of the park. Shaken, Chris watched Armie seemingly snap right out of character. He and Gael leaned into each other, talking about something Chris couldn't hear. 

"Go!" Armie's voice boomed. Chris' eyes shot to his face, his matinee-idol good looks warped by anger and pain. "Don't use me or what we had as an excuse anymore. I'm telling you to go." 

Chris froze. This wasn't what he'd expected. This wasn't the scene Armie had been practicing earlier.

"I thought I could change for you," Gael said, his hands shaking as he clutched at Armie's hands. "I wanted to."

Armie fell to his knees, his forehead pressing against Gael's stomach as his shoulders drooped. If he was crying, Chris couldn't hear or see it. He suddenly wished he'd stayed at the monitors, after all, where he'd have an up-close view and headphones. Chris was desperate to know if the words had changed, if anything about this scene changed at all. His heart started beating faster and his eyes grew wider with every passing second. Everything that the actors were saying was already spoken. He knew the words by heart. It was nearly the exact exchange that he and Jake had. Chris had replayed it over and over again in his head, the words permanently etched in his memory. His breath caught and he felt lightheaded. Blinking, he was startled when a round of applause came from the direction of the crew. Before he could stop himself, he ran towards Armie, stumbling through the wet grass. 

"Why?" Chris asked, breathing hard after his near sprint. "Why would you want me to see that?"

Gael froze. So did the rest of the crew. The cameras had stopped rolling, but the sudden commotion had kept everyone right where they'd been standing.

"Chris, calm down," Armie said, rubbing his hands up and down Chris' arms. "Shh. I don't know what you mean." His breathing quickened and Chris could see the edges of his vision blurring.

He felt Gael's hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "You wanted me to feel it all again. This part of the book. This whole thing." He was rambling now. Chris looked up at Armie and saw shock in his big blue eyes.

"Chris, come here." Armie scooped him up in his arms, holding him tight. "I would never hurt you."

"Is everything okay?" Gael said, his voice low.

"I think we're having a misunderstanding," Armie responded. "We're done for tonight, right? I need to take him home." Chris' face was pressed into Armie's chest, silent sobs racking his body.

Jean-Marc had rushed over to them and simply nodded after Armie's suggestion. He was too shocked to say anything else, a sentiment shared by just about everyone there. 

"Sorry," Armie said to everyone. "He'll be fine. I'll make sure."

The car ride home was in near-silence. Armie couldn't tell if Chris had been crying or just in a fit of rage. Whichever it was, Armie wasn't ready to find out and Chris definitely wasn't open to discussing it. He was embarrassed. Not only causing a scene, but he thought that he'd gotten through all those emotions, or at least pushed them away. They were just a few miles from Armie's house, but he decided that it would be a better idea to get Chris to more familiar environs. The long drive would do some good, too. It offered a little more time for things to settle down.

Chris still hadn't said a word when they pulled into the driveway. "Say something," Armie said as Chris struggled to unlock his front door.

"I don't know why, but you did that to hurt my feelings."

"Why would I want to hurt your feelings?"

"I said I didn't know," Chris said as he headed upstairs. "You're not welcome to stay tonight."

"I am going to whether you want it or not. I'm worried about you."

"I'll be fine," Chris said, not even bothering to turn around.

"Chris, look at me. Talk to me."

Chris turned on his heels at the top of the stairs. The same place where he had swallowed Armie's dick to the root. Armie wouldn't ever get that image out of his head. "I can't look at you right now."

"How did you expect to ignore that part of your life forever? You lived it. You wrote it. I thought you moved past all that. I needed you there to support me. You're being selfish."

"You didn't warn me."

"You wouldn't have come."

"I'm not a prop for you to use."

"No, you're a person who gets emotions out of me. It's what being in a relationship is. What's wrong with you? I just wanted your support."

"You don't know what those words mean to me. That's my life. That moment broke me."

"But you put it out there," Armie said. He could feel anger welling up inside him now. "How did you expect to stay away from it?"

"I've managed, haven't I? When you live through it once, you don't want to live it again." He didn't wait for a response. He walked into the bedroom shut the door. Whether or not Armie left, this conversation was done.

Armie woke up with the sun, because he'd forgotten to shut the blinds last night and Chris' fishbowl of a house filled with early morning light. What he didn't expect to see as soon as he opened his eye was Chris, dozing just a few feet away from him on the other part of the L-shaped sofa. After the previous night's somewhat unexpected outcome, Armie didn't know what would happen next. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of Chris' body with every deep breath. He went over and gently shook at Chris' shoulder.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Armie whispered, rubbing at Chris' back.

"Yes, please," Chris mumbled. Armie sat next to him, his hand lingering. Chris wasn't bristling at the touch like Armie had expected. Instead, he was almost leaning into it, encouraging more contact. Armie stroked Chris' cheek with the back of his knuckles and Chris let out a contented sigh. "I didn't think you'd stay."

"I couldn't go," Armie said softly.

"I'm sorry for blowing up on you." 

"It's over now," Armie assured him. "Let's get you some coffee."

There was an ease about the morning after that surprised the both of them. Chris wanted to forget everything as quickly as possible and Armie was just relieved that everything seemed to be back to normal. Minus a pair of stiff backs, there was nothing to remind them of the previous nights' incident. 

"I'm not going to ever be completely okay with what happened between me and Jake," Chris said, idly stirring his coffee. "I thought I could be. I figured getting it out of my system just meant typing it all out."

"You may have oversimplified that."

"You could have gone off on me."

"I could have done a lot of things. I could have gone up to your room last night. I could have gotten angry on set. But I think I did the right thing."

Chris didn't know what to say to that. Armie was behind him now. Chris was sitting on a stool, making Armie feel even bigger that he really was. When he wrapped his arms around Chris' chest and nuzzled at his neck, Chris almost felt smothered. 

"I care about you a lot. I didn't want to lose that. Part of me wanted you on set because I wanted you to see how happy I was to be in this movie. I wanted you to be proud of me. To see everyone's hard work."

"Do you think about what you had with Liz?"

"I've got ways of keeping my mind from things that are in the past."

"I think you're oversimplifying things."

"I don't think so," Armie whispered as he kissed at the back of Chris' neck. "I really don't."


	10. Chapter 10

"He seems really happy."

"I know," Jake said. "I didn't think that it would make me so upset."

"It's understandable," Maggie replied. The two of them were sitting in the living room they'd grown up in. Jake's dad had renovated the house since they'd moved out, but the bones were recognizable. 

"We rushed it, like we did with everything. I wasn't thinking and you know how Chris is, he just went along with it." Jake let out a long, drawn breath. "He did it because he thought it was what I wanted."

"It is what you wanted. Jake, I love you, but you're being dumb," Maggie said. She had no trouble putting her brother in his place. "You were stupid for breaking up with him. You're even more stupid for thinking that you could undo that. Don't play with his emotions."

"I think he still loves me," Jake said.

"He does," Maggie said. "But he's dumb, too. He'd do anything to make you happy, so don't even suggest it. Nothing makes a person more irrational than emotions. If you two just sat down and took a second, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"Why didn't you say this last year?"

"I did, you two just ignored me."

"Chris would never ignore you."

"He also does everything you tell him to."

Exasperated, Jake couldn't find an answer to that. "Do you know where he is? He's not answering his phone."

"He's on some sort of vacation."

"How do you even know that?"

"Instagram."

"He doesn't have Instagram."

It was Maggie's turn to sigh. "Jake, get with it. It was on Armie's Instagram. They're on Grand Cayman. You didn't see those pictures from when he was at Disneyland?"

"What the fuck? Chris had to get a passport when we were together. He hadn't even been out of the country."

Maggie could see the anger rising in her brother. As much as she loved Chris, she couldn't deny that he seemed happy with his current situation. She wasn't sure how serious it was, but right now, she had to deal with Jake. "Maybe it was a wrap party?"

"Stop trying to make excuses. I know what's going on. I don't want to believe it, but I know they're together."

"He wasn't going to be single the rest of his life."

"I'm so stupid. What the hell was I doing?"

Chris decided that jetlag wasn't so bad when it involved slipping in and out of sleep next to Armie. He woke up with Armie spooned behind him, but shut his eyes again to enjoy the warmth surrounding him. An hour or so later, his eyes fluttered open and he found himself with an arm thrown over Armie's bare chest. He kissed at Armie's bicep and ran his fingers through Armie's chest hair. "Is it time to get up?" Armie asked, his eyes still shut. 

"Who knows?"

Armie chuckled. He rolled over and Chris' legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. They shared a slow, soft kiss. The setting sun filled Chris' bedroom with a golden light and both of them took their time, hands roaming over sun-kissed, post-vacation skin. "Why did we have to come back?" Armie asked between kisses. Chris didn't answer at first, choosing to kiss at Armie's neck and jaw, instead. 

"I'm on your schedule. I like you with all this stubble," he said, his voice muffled by Armie's throat. "You look so good."

Armie caught Chris' mouth with his own, their tongues sliding against each other. "You're not sick of me yet?"

Chris ran his fingers up the back of Armie's head, feeling his soft, gold-flecked hair. His hips ground up into Armie's, his cock desperate for some attention. 

"Not yet," Chris said, a smile on his lips as Armie held both his hands up over his head. Armie made his preferences clear: he liked to be in charge. Chris didn't mind. When things did get a little too rough, the bruises were just reminders of the passion. 

"We shouldn't keep this up," Armie whispered, loosening his grip. "I've got to at least think about getting ready."

"Your house isn't going anywhere," Chris said before leaning down to kiss and nip at Armie's nipple. 

"I'll be back tonight," Armie said through gritted teeth. "If I fuck you now, I'll keep fucking you."

"Can't have that," Chris said, hand wrapping around Armie's cock. The blood had rushed into his dick so fast that he felt dizzy, but he was slowly getting his composure back, even with Chris' deft fingers stroking him. 

"I'm serious. I have to go."

"Go ahead," Chris said. "I won't stop you."

Armie groaned. Before either of them could say anything, Armie's cock was buried in Chris' throat and the two of them lost track of time.

Chris spent the rest of the day unpacking and getting back to real life. With Armie's help, he managed to stay off the grid almost entirely. No email, no phone calls, and no messages. Nothing but laying out on the beach with his Kindle and Armie's very welcome distractions. The idea of having an island getaway seemed almost too good to be true, but Chris didn't think about it when the Armie started showing him around the huge estate that the Hammer family maintained in the Caribbean. Chris couldn't help but compare, noticing that the seaside compound was definitely flashier and more luxurious than the Gyllenhaals' Martha's Vineyard property. Armie was proud of the house and its history, but Chris could sense a little bit of embarrassment, too. 

"It's a lot to take in, but I wanted to take you somewhere really special," Armie had explained. 

Chris tossed his dirty clothes into the washing machine, pausing when he found one of Armie's T-shirts mixed in with his own swim trunks and shorts. It smelled like sunscreen and Armie. Just the feel of it sent him right back to the island. It was too good to be true, but he had the memories to prove that the whole thing wasn't just a dream. He set the shirt aside and started the wash cycle. After the bright, sun-drenched colors of the Caribbean, everything in his house seemed so dull. Even outside the back door, where he could see bougainvillea spilling over his neighbors' fences and green reeds swaying in the canals, the world looked a little more sedate than normal. It was exactly how he felt after every vacation, only this time, he wasn't reminiscing about it with Jake and already talking about their next trip. 

Seeing his empty fridge made him realize that he had to stock up, adding one more errand to his already-growing list. If Armie got back soon, they could go together, Chris thought. The thought startled him. Things were going almost too quickly and he had to take stock before falling down an Armie Hammer-shaped hole and getting in over his head. With that thought, he decided that going to the store alone would be just fine. 

Hours later, with his refrigerator full of the necessities, his laundry freshly folded, and a few emails taken care of, Chris finally let himself think about Armie again. Somehow, he'd let himself fall into Armie's arms and gotten comfortable with the idea of being in a relationship again. As much as he'd resisted, he realized that he was actually happy. He just didn't know if it was time to let go of it all and dive in. Was the fact that the movie could be eclipsed by the relationship still reason enough?

His doorbell shocked him out of his thoughts and he rushed to the front door, knowing that it would be Armie. As soon as the door swung open, Chris froze. Armie looked drawn and tired, like the vacation glow had been sucked out of him against his will. He looked five years older that he did that same morning.

"Whoa, Armie. What happened?" Chris wrapped his arms around Armie's waist and pulled him close. "What sort of meeting did you have?"

"Liz. I thought we were finished, but she's fighting me. She wants the Hollywood house...or part of it. I was blindsided. I've never seen her like this. That's my family's."

"The lawyers will take care of it," Chris assured him. "That's what they're there for."

"I thought it would be civil," Armie said, shaking his head.

"Hey, hey, let's get some food," Chris said, his hands feeling at Armie's cheeks. "Tell me what happened."

They walked a few blocks and found themselves in a pho restaurant. Chris hoped the warm soup would comfort both of them. If anything, eating slippery noodles would distract Armie from some of the turmoil.

"She said that I was disrespecting our relationship," Armie said, fumbling with the slick strands of noodles. "I don't know what she even means by that."

"You guys were married for a while, it's understandable for her to be upset."

"You were married even longer," Armie said. "Are you asking Jake Gyllenhaal for anything?"

"I wouldn't do that," Chris said. "But also there are no Gyllenhaal museums or golf courses anywhere."

Armie rolled his eyes. "She'll be fine. She won't need anything for the rest of her life."

"I honestly never thought we'd have this conversation," Chris admitted.

"Welcome to the present," Armie said. "If we're going to be together, if we're taking this seriously, you've got to grow up. We've both got to deal with history."

Chris was taken aback by Armie's frank statement. He set his chopsticks down and looked across the table at Armie. "Jake and I tried our best to keep things private. It's staying that way. It'll be a long time before we talk about my history."

"We don't have to. I read all about it. Your privacy wasn't worth anything, because every gossip column covered you two."

"If that's what you're going off of, we've got more to talk about than just our exes." Chris kept his words short and measured. Armie was fragile right now, but he wasn't about to let low blows slide.

Armie sighed. "I'm falling hard for you. I've wanted to say 'I love you' a hundred times. Let me in."

"What are you going to do about your ex-wife?"

"Let my lawyers handle it. Let me in."

Chris reached across the table and grabbed at Armie's hand. "We'll talk about us later. Right now, focus on what's going on with you."

"Don't deflect," Armie said, his thumb tracing along Chris' knuckles. "Do you love me?"

"I love you very much," Chris said. "But..."

"No 'but.' I need to remember the first time you said you loved me as being in a Vietnamese restaurant in Venice Beach right after my ex said she wanted to make me as bankrupt as my morals."

"That's pure poetry," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "But you're damaged right now, so I'll let you have it."

"Can I kiss you right now?"

Chris didn't answer. He just leaned over the table and gave Armie a soft kiss. If that's all it took to get Armie's mind off legal trouble, it was the least he could do.

After dinner, Chris watched Armie pace back and forth in the living room, one hand holding his phone up to his ear and the other wildly gesturing. Chris could only hear bits and pieces and he was fine with that. It was none of his business. He pulled a throw blanket up onto his lap and settled in for the long haul. Armie looked mad. Then, relieved. Confusion and anger, again.

"Hey," Armie said as he shook at Chris' shoulder. "You dozed off there."

Chris wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, "Did you figure everything out?"

"Not even close," Armie said, trying his best to smile. "It's bigger than one phone call."

"I figured."

"I don't want to think about that right now." Chris pulled Armie down onto him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Armie settled into position, his knees between Chris' legs on the couch. He idly stroked Chris' hair and tried his best to relax. "This is working."

"It hurts worse when it's someone you really loved," Chris said, his voice low. "And then lawyers get involved. That whole idea of 'until death do us part' starts to seem like a bad joke."

"I need one of those beers in your fridge. Maybe more than one."

"Those aren't for you. I have something you might like better."

Armie rolled off, leaning back on the couch and letting his head hang off the back. "I'll take anything you've got."

Chris headed over to the freezer and rifled around, pulling out a bottle of tequila. "It was a housewarming present from the realtor," he said as he handed it to Armie. He gratefully took a swig straight from the bottle and winced at the combination of ice-cold liquid and the burn of alcohol. 

"Get back here. I need you."

For the next few days, Armie's schedule consisted of meetings with his lawyer. Chris took up residence at Sony's production facility, finally looking over the footage from the movie. He'd seen pieces of it, all out of order and with shoddy sound, but now it was time to see it spliced together. There was a veritable army of engineers working tirelessly to get the movie done and Chris needed to do his part to ensure that everything was flowing. He sat alongside Jean-Marc and nodded a lot, only offering a few suggestions when prompted. He knew the story, but it was Jean-Marc's vision. Chris wrote the words, it wasn't his place to deal with the visuals.

Armie called while Chris was eating his fourth kale salad of the week, basically locked away in the editing room with Jean-Marc. "I have to take this," Chris said, not even waiting for a response.

"I miss you," Chris heard. Armie didn't sound as weary as he had the past few days.

"I've watched you nonstop all week," Chris said, chuckling. "Tell me you've got good news."

"She's not getting the house," Armie said, a tiny bit of relief in his voice. "But she's getting plenty more than we had agreed on before."

"That's good news," Chris said, leaning against a wall. "Should we celebrate?"

"I'd love a blowjob right about now," Armie said. "But I know you're busy."

"I meant dinner."

"I don't think it's cause for celebration. There's a lot more to talk about before she signs off...again. This time I'm making sure that she does it in front of someone official."

"She's hurt," Chris said. "You can't blame her entirely."

"No," Armie said. "But there's a lot more. I'll explain it to you later." 

Armie looked out the conference room window, thankful that everyone left the office for lunch. Elizabeth was just trying to get what she felt like she deserved, Armie kept reminding himself. He, on the other hand, was doing his best to make sure that there was no way that anyone could spin the story to involve Chris at all. Wait, Armie insisted. A public statement could come out after the movie premiered, after everything had settled down. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the notion, but it was a small sacrifice for a bigger settlement. Her lawyer agreed to that stipulation without even consulting her. Everyone knew that there was no way she had any claim to the house, it was just a play to get another chance at reviewing the final decisions.

"I'll let you know when I get home, if you want to come over."

"Not tonight," Armie said. "As much as I want to. I have an early call tomorrow for audio. If you stopped making notes, I wouldn't be so tired."

"It's not me," Chris assured him. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"I have it on record that you said my voice wasn't velvety enough," Armie said. "That it only made you weak in the knees and not short of breath."

"I'll talk to you later," Chris said, not wanting to hear any more of Armie's nonsense. 

"What are you doing on the floor?" Chris heard as he tapped at his phone to hang up. Seeing the beat-up black boots was enough, he didn't even have to look up. When he did, though, he saw Jake, offering a hand.

"You know me, always sitting down on the job," Chris said, letting Jake pull him up and into a hug.

"Still not done?"

Chris shook his head. Hugging Jake felt almost foreign--and the idea of that startled him. He wouldn't even have to go on his tiptoes to give Jake a kiss. What was that even like anymore? "I'll be here for a while," he said. "I have to earn my place in the credits."

"What are they giving you?" Jake asked.

"I don't even know. Written by Christopher Lewis. Based on the novel by Christopher Lewis. Adapted by Christopher Lewis from the novel by Christopher Lewis."

"The last one. Fight for it."

"It'll look good on the poster. Not that anyone pays attention to the words."

"Thanks for those books," Jake said. "Maggie said that you had fun with the girls."

"They probably needed a break," Chris said. "I'll volunteer to watch those kiddos anytime, as long as I can give them back at the end."

"Do you have time to meet up later?" Jake asked. "It's been so long." His sister's voice kept echoing in his head. But against his better judgment, the words came out.

"I can't today," Chris said. "I think this weekend might work?" He wondered if Armie's divorce negotiations would be done by then. Chris didn't plan on ever meeting Armie's ex and he was hoping to be able to offer Armie the same courtesy. "I'm juggling some stuff."

"Let me know," Jake said, giving Chris' shoulder a squeeze. "I miss you."

"I'll see you soon," Chris said before kissing Jake's cheek. "I want you to see the movie soon, okay? We can watch it as soon as I get the final cut."

"Anything for you," Jake said, feeling Chris' back. "Let me know."

Jake watched Chris head back into the editing suite. Sighing. He repeated Maggie's words over and over again. If Chris could move on, there was no reason he couldn't, too. Maggie had been trying to set him up with her friends lately and now, he figured it was about time to think about taking her up on it. He slid his hands into his pockets after checking his watch. There was just enough time for him to make it to his own meeting.


	11. Chapter 11

Armie prided himself on being good at his job. Critics may have other opinions on that fact, but he prided himself on showing up on time, having his lines memorized and being easy to work with. He'd done everything asked of him, promoting the movie in Toronto for the film festival just like he was supposed to. Then, when the movie was announced for a limited release, he and Gael did the rounds for TV, too. The whole time, Armie smiled, let the world see his charming personality and managed to drum up some excitement. Done and done, he thought. The rest, well, that was up to people who paid to go see movies and the studio's marketing department. What he never thought he'd pride himself on is getting his boyfriend to put a suit on.

"I haven't seen you dressed up since I've known you," Armie said. "I was missing out."

"You've seen me in a suit before," Chris said, trying his best to ignore Armie's hands coming around his waist. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his shirt as best as he could, his fingers grazing Armie's. 

"Not this close up," Armie specified. Chris turned around and gave Armie a quick kiss.

"I need to brush my teeth and we can go."

Armie smiled and took a second to make sure he looked okay, too. His stylist had sent over clear instructions, but he'd been through this so many times he didn't need them. This was a part of the job he didn't particularly enjoy, but there was no way anyone involved would let him miss a premiere. He hoped that he and Chris could leave after the red carpet. He was proud of the film, but he wasn't in the mood to watch it tonight.

"You look handsome," Chris said as he picked up his own jacket and headed out of the room. "Car's downstairs."

Armie grabbed his hand before he could make it out of the room. "Are you ready for this?" He pressed their foreheads together and held Chris' hands in his own.

"Nope. Never will be." It was Armie's idea. The movie had gotten attention, so there was no reason to keep their relationship under wraps anymore. By now, everyone had made up their mind and something as simple as a workplace romance wouldn't sway the audience one way or another. Chris wasn't exactly hesitant, but he was perfectly happy the way things were. Their friends knew, the media had been speculating already, too. What did it matter at this point, Armie said, they might as well make a splash. 

An hour in traffic later, Armie opened the car door and stepped out. "Here goes nothing," he said as he offered his hand. 

Chris swatted it away and rolled his eyes. "This isn't prom," he muttered. 

He stepped out, one step behind Armie and the entire world froze. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the camera flashes weren't something anyone could get used to. The fact that Armie didn't seem fazed at all was a wonder in its own right. Chris reached for Armie's hand and they walked together. Without a single announcement from their publicists, no headlines splashed across the internet and only the tiniest whispered rumors, they made it official to the entire world.

More than happy to stay a few paces behind Armie, Chris watches as he answers questions along the press line. He and Armie may not have prepped for the big announcement, but someone had taken the time to tell the reporters to stay on topic. With an expert's ease, Armie deflected any questions that even came close to being about their relationship and brought it back to the movie. It was an honor, he said. It was an important movie, he added, because it would resonate with people everywhere. Chris had spent so much time with Armie that the idea of their relationship being new seemed absurd, but knowing that Armie had done everything he'd asked showed just how much it meant to him. It meant a lot to Chris, too.

"We're getting burgers after this," Armie said, leaning in close. "I'm starving."

Their hands locked again and Chris could hear the cameras snapping away again. "There's an In-N-Out on the way back."

"Are we going to your place or mine?" Armie asked.

"I'm sure there's an In-N-Out in both directions," Chris said. "So it doesn't matter."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Right now? I want to get inside as quick as we can. You decide where we go from there. I'm going to head in and wait for you. Take your time out here." Chris squeezed Armie's hand, "Thank you for doing this. This project couldn't have happened without you. What we have is more than this movie though. I hope you know that."

"I'll see you inside," Armie said. "Don't get all sappy on me now."

Chris made a beeline for the theater's entrance. Inside, it was just as chaotic, but he knew these things as well as any of the actors. There would be a few greenrooms somewhere for people to collect themselves, for agents to make calls and for makeup artists to touch things up. He asked a few people milling around and finally found it. Trying his luck for an empty one, he picked the first one and almost cheered. Inside, it was quiet. 

Jake picked up the phone before it even rang. "I never thought I'd have to do this without you," Chris said. 

"I'm sorry," Jake said. Chris noticed the sadness in his voice. "I don't have a good enough reason for you."

Chris had done his best to have Jake see the movie, but their schedules never lined up. Chris made sure Jake had access to a copy of the movie, too, but Jake had ignored his phone calls and his messages. Chris knew that he was asking a lot of his ex. It was a lot to expect of Jake to watch a movie based on their experience. But Chris had hoped he'd get some input. He didn't expect radio silence.

"I'm in the same greenroom we were in last time," Chris said. "I'm always hiding at these things."

"I know the movie will be good," Jake said. "If it's anything like your book, everyone is going to love it. I've read it so many times. I'm really proud of you."

"I never thought it'd be like this," Chris said. "I always figured it'd be me and you."

"Things don't always work out like we want," Jake said, sighing. "Look at us."

"I wish you'd had the chance to see it," Chris said. "But I get it. You lived it. You should have just told me."

"It wasn't that, Chris," Jake said. "It's complicated. Everything between you and me is really complicated."

"There you are," Chris heard over his shoulder. Armie's velvety, syrupy voice was unmistakable.

"Hey, good luck," Jake said. "I really am sorry."

"I'll talk to you soon," Chris said. "Call me. Please."

"Everything okay?" Armie asked, hugging Chris tight. He ran his nose over Chris' hair, practically purring at the close contact.

"I think so," Chris said.

"I have very good news," Armie said. His hands were running over Chris' chest and stomach. Chris could feel Armie's erection pressing through his pants. "We can leave right now. They arranged it just for you."

"Me and my demands," Chris said, turning around to kiss Armie on the lips. "Did you lock the door?"

"No, it doesn't lock."

"Then we have to get out of here."

"Car's coming around to the back exit," Armie explained, trying his best to ignore the strain in his pants.

Chris slipped out of the tiny room and back into the lobby. It was crowded, but he managed to say thank you to the other actors in the film and a few of the crewmembers that he recognized, too. He saw Armie doing the same. Thanks to his very generous height, Chris knew where he was at all times. He towered above most of the people milling around making him easy to spot. Trying to be as cordial and gracious as possible, he moved towards the concession stand and the theaters, but collided with someone on the way. 

"Smooth," Armie said, leaning down as he whispered. His lips grazed Chris' ear.

"You did that on purpose."

"Do you think the internet is buzzing about us yet?"

"It has been for a while now, hasn't it?"

Armie rubbed Chris' back, "You know I don't pay attention to those things."

"I see our way out," Chris said, pulling at Armie's hand. He couldn't remember ever dashing this quickly through an event and part of him thought about the possibility of regret. This was his big night--and Armie's, too. But more than the pride of a job well done, he wanted to celebrate with Armie. Everyone else could have their moment; Chris was seizing the night in his own way.

"What's the rush?" Armie joked. "Hold on one second."

Chris turned on his heels and before he could even make eye contact, Armie had pulled him into a kiss. Their bodies were pressed together and Chris was completely consumed, Armie's tongue in his mouth, their hearts pounding against each other as Armie's hands held Chris tight against him. Chris didn't know if he actually saw fireworks or if it was just the play of lights inside the theater's hallways.

"We did good, didn't we?"

"I'm happy if you are," Chris said, smiling through half-lidded eyes. "I'm just glad that we can just...be."

Armie couldn't stop talking through the hamburgers, milkshakes or the drive home. Their knees brushed and Armie held tight onto Chris' hands while the driver wove through the L.A. streets. Chris sat back, content at just listening to Armie gushing about the movie, about what it could mean for the both of them, and how they'd be moving forward together. He was all manic energy, buzzing with excitement and ready to bounce off the walls. Chris just watched the city whiz by, lights blurring and the sky's ink black filling with the hint of stars. He could never see them with all the bright city lights, but he knew they were up there. 

The back of Armie's hand on his cheek interrupted his introspection, but he leaned into the touch, smiling when their eyes met. "Food coma?" Armie asked.

"Just thinking about what comes next."

"Already? Enjoy the night for once."

"Can't turn my brain off," Chris replied. 

"We'll work on that," Armie said. He was still smiling his bright movie-star smile. It hadn't left his face all night.

Chris let out a long breath. He hadn't asked, but it was obvious now that they were headed to Armie's house. Chris liked to call it "the castle," which Armie hated. "Almost there," Chris said softly.

"It's okay, right?"

"I just want to be with you tonight. It doesn't matter where we are."

"You really mean that?"

Chris nodded, squeezing Armie's hand. A few minutes later, they arrived at Armie's house. Dressed in his tuxedo, his hair combed back and surrounded by the grandeur of his own house, Armie looked like he'd stepped out of an old movie. Chris stayed a few steps behind him just to admire it all. 

"What's going on?" Armie asked as he unlocked the front door and noticed that Chris had been behind him the whole walk up.

"This is unbelievable. How is this even real right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like a fairy tale," Chris said, finally coming toe-to-toe with Armie. "If you keep this up, I'll be writing romance novels."

"I can give you happily ever after," Armie said, leaning in for another kiss. Chris' felt his broad shoulders and traced along his neck as they kissed. He could still taste the salt of the French fries and a hint of chocolate milkshake. 

"You're so cheesy," Chris said as he followed Armie into the house. The lights came on automatically as they went through the entryway, Armie's hand still clutching Chris' as they went upstairs and down the hall, the house coming to life with every step. Chris pulled his jacket off and tossed it onto a chair. Armie shrugged off his own though he was a little more careful with it. His stylist would need it back tomorrow. Chris settled in on Armie's huge king-sized bed and let out a contented sigh. He started to undo his tie, until Armie got in on the other side of the bed, his own shirt and tie already off. 

"Let me," he whispered, his deft fingers making short work of the simple knot.

"You did really great tonight," Chris said, pushing Armie's hair off his forehead.

"Always give them a show," Armie said. "That's how the business works."

He'd undone Chris' shirt, taking his time to kiss and nip at the exposed skin at Chris' neck and collarbones. Chris shut his eyes, happily letting Armie straddle his hips and feeling the warm air surround him as his shirt came off. Chest to chest, Chris felt Armie's back and thrust his hips up. 

Chris reached into Armie's pants, gripping at his cock and stroking as Armie fumbled with both of their belts. Chris kissed at Armie's stubbled jaw, gasping quietly as Armie pawed at his dick, both of them clumsy with lust. Chris took the initiative, pushing his own pants and underwear down his legs. Armie groaned as Chris rolled on top of him, kissing at his chest as gave Armie's pants the same treatment. Chris stroked Armie's dick, which was already leaking a steady stream of slick pre-cum. His breath was hot on Armie's skin, every breathy groan sending ripples through Armie's body. Chris' hands were running up and down his sides and Armie was buzzing from head to toe, gently stroking their cocks together as Chris met his mouth for a searing kiss.

Armie rolled Chris onto his back, not breaking the kiss as he rearranged their bodies, Chris' legs spreading apart and Armie's settling between them. He moved down Chris' body, licking up and down Chris' shaft and rolling his balls in his hand. Chris was already groaning and panting, his eyes shut tight and his fingers in Armie's hair. Armie sucked at Chris' cockhead, his lips tight as he bobbed slowly, a hand pressing down on Chris' abs to steady him against the bed. 

"Armie," Chris groaned through gritted teeth, his neck tense and his jaw clenched. "God, god that feels so good."

Glancing up through half-lidded eyes, Armie watched as Chris took short, quick breaths, doing his best to keep from getting too close. Holding Chris down, he bobbed faster and heard actual whimpers fall from Chris' lips. Armie came off, stroking Chris as he caught his breath, "You okay?"

"You kept me half-hard all night," Chris said, his voice gravelly. "I'm close already."

Armie leaned over Chris to kiss him, tingles running through his own body as Chris felt at his chest and shoulders, their lips crashing together. Chris didn't notice Armie slicking his fingers, but he bucked up when he felt two of Armie's fingers push into his hole and nearly yelled out when he felt them hook onto his prostate. Armie bit at Chris' collarbone as he pushed and prodded, groaning as he felt Chris' whole body seize under him. 

"Steady," Armie whispered, leaning down to take a few licks at Chris' slit. The motions were playful and light, barely touching the skin. His breath was hot against Chris' dick and he could tell Chris was having more and more trouble holding back. He smiled as Chris' ring tightened around his fingers. Armie slipped in a third and worked them all back and forth, bumping against Chris' spot and sending jolts up his spine.

"Get in me," Chris said, almost pleading. "Do it."

Armie twisted his arm, pushing his fingers in and out of Chris' ring. Unrelenting, he licked Chris' head and kept his hand moving, never letting up even as Chris' demands got more and more incoherent. Feeling Chris' balls tighten, Armie kept his fingers still and pushed hard against Chris' prostate. Toes curling, Chris groaned loud, surrendering to the orgasm that he'd held back. Chris gasped as Armie pushed into him, ignoring the waves of his orgasm. He gripped at the sheets, knuckles white as the edges of his vision blurred and his body was overwhelmed on every front. The tension that came with Armie's long, thick cock pushing into him came with the slack, syrupy glow that came after cumming and Chris was doing everything he could to keep from blacking out entirely.

"So tight," Armie groaned, his lips brushing Chris' ear. He felt arms and legs wrapping around him, Chris clinging to his body, craving as much skin-to-skin contact as he could get. Armie stayed buried to the hilt, riding out Chris' orgasm right along with him. His thrusts started long and slow, letting Chris' clenching ring work every inch of his shaft. He kept things slow, watching the muscles in Chris' jaw loosen and his breath steady. Armie pushed deep and rolled his hips, hands feeling Chris' legs. 

Nearly folded in half, Chris tossed his head as he felt Armie push in, bottoming out with every thrust and holding just long enough for Chris to wonder if he could handle having Armie go so deep. He groaned and arched, opening everything up more for Armie, his body begging for more even as the stretch turned into a dull ache.

"Love you," Armie said breathlessly, moving Chris to his side and spooning behind him. Armie's nose ran through Chris' hair and his hips moved slower, his own body trying its best to stay slow, even as every thrust brought him closer to orgasm. Chris reached back, feeling Armie's hair and clamping his chute tight, biting his lip as he whimpered. Armie held his hips, pulling him into every push forward and grinding in. Chris shuddered as Armie stroked him, his body already oversensitive to every touch, inside and out.

Armie gave Chris' balls a tight squeeze and thrust hard, their sweaty skin emphasizing every sound. Armie bit softly at the back of Chris' neck, grunting as he dropped all pretenses. He was barreling towards his own orgasm and there was no reason to keep it at bay. He reached for Chris' hand, squeezing it tight as he grunted, hips pumping harder. 

"Cum for me," Armie said, his voice low and gruff. Chris grunted in response, his cock jumping as Armie picked up speed. The long, languid thrusts grew erratic and Armie's hand gripped Chris' dick tighter, strokes more insistent. Chris' head settled back against Armie's shoulder and he felt another orgasm rip through him, shooting a load onto his stomach and the sheets. Armie's eye shut tight. He kept his cock buried deep and ground in as hard as he could manage as he felt his own orgasm shoot through him. Groaning, he kissed Chris' neck and felt his body tense up into a tight knot before going completely slack, all the tension melting away as he pumped into Chris' ass. 

Chris was breathing hard, holding Armie's hand against his chest. His heart was racing as he kissed Armie's knuckles, slowly regaining his composure. Chris didn't know how, but he felt Armie pull him even closer, blurring the lines of where one of them ended and the other started. Armie kept his face buried in Chris' hair, holding them together with his arms and legs. When Armie started for the blanket, something to cover them up, Chris shook his head, "Just stay like this a little more," he said, voice barely a whisper. Sighing, Armie decided the chill of the air on their sweaty skin wasn't so bad. 

Flipping on the light in Armie's walk-in closet revealed that half of it was empty. It was startling at first, but it made sense as Chris rifled through the drawers, looking for something to wear. Stumbling on a plain T-shirt, he slipped it on and kept rummaging. Armie's clothes didn't fit him, but he didn't have the foresight to pack an overnight bag. A pair of Armie's workout shorts would have to do. As Chris walked slowly back to the bedroom, he saw Armie asleep on his back, just as he'd left him. Chris had become so accustomed to Armie staying with him and the fact that he was basically walking through unfamiliar territory emphasized that sentiment. He made his way downstairs and into the familiar territory of the kitchen. It was almost one o'clock, Chris noticed. The two of them had been oblivious to the entire world. 

Coming back to reality was hard when he was at the Castle, but there were no enchanted woodland creatures to help him find Armie's stash of coffee. It didn't help that the kitchen was twice the size of his own and there were two pantries in addition to all the gleaming white cabinets. Finally finding some coffee beans, he sighed when he realized that they were still whole. Trying to find a a would be second adventure he wasn't ready to tackle just yet. 

He briefly wondered just how much it would cost to summon an Uber car just to get Starbucks. The ridiculous idea reminded him that his phone was upstairs, somewhere in the mess he and Armie made. Settling for orange juice instead, Chris headed to the swimming pool, another of the spots he'd been before. He sat on the edge and put his feet in, tiny ripples breaking the glassy surface. He watched as the sunlight painted wavy reflections across the pool's bottom. Without a doubt, his inbox would be flooded with congratulations from last night and his agent would want to talk about it, too. He'd ignore that as long as he could. One of the only people that he wanted to hear from had ignored him and that was hard enough to take. As much as he tried to ignore, Chris kept thinking about Jake's reaction. If he would only talk about it, Chris could calm his nerves. His overactive imagination was always painting exaggerated scenarios and Jake's cryptic answers were fodder for the worst possible scenarios. 

"Don't leave me alone in bed ever again," Armie said from the back door. Chris looked over his shoulder to see him leaning against the frame. His hair was messy and he was only wearing Chris' underwear, but his smile couldn't have been any bigger. Chris never thought he would fall for the typical blond hair and blue eyes, but here he was looking right at it. Maybe it was a deliberate choice to get as far away from Jake as possible, he thought.

"You hog the blankets," Chris said flatly, still gently moving his legs in the water.

"You're going to want to see this," Armie said. Chris begrudgingly got to his feet and walked towards Armie, a trail of wet footprints behind him. He leaned in for a kiss, getting onto his tiptoes like he always had to.

"Can we get some food first?"

Armie traced a line down the center of Chris' chest, down to his stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his shorts. "This whole morning-after, borrowing-my-clothes thing is really working for me," Armie said. 

"What do I need to see? Did I get on the 'GQ' Best Dressed Men of the Week list?" 

"Not quite that," Armie said, handing Chris his phone. 

Chris walked back inside the house and settled in on the couch, just on the other side the glass door. He still had a view of the pool, the surface settling down now that Chris wasn't there to disturb it. He had a bunch of emails, just as he'd presumed, but he'd also been sent links to coverage of last night's premiere. He clicked on the first one, which was from "The Hollywood Reporter." The photos made him cringe. Armie was just five inches taller than him, but he looked like he towered over Chris in every photo. 

"Armie Hammer and Christopher Lewis make it red carpet official," Chris read aloud. "Confirming previous speculation, the new couple held hands as they celebrated alongside the cast of the Jean-Marc Valle-helmed 'Everything After the Wedding.' Sources say they pair grew close during the film's production."

"Skip to the end," Armie said, doing his best to figure out what he could make from the very limited resources in his refrigerator. 

"Both Hammer and Lewis have recently divorced," Chris read, eyes rolling. It was basically a tagline that was permanently attached to anything having to do with his work now. "Sources confirmed the working relationship developed into a romance after the two connected over their recent breakups."

"What are these sources?" Armie asked rhetorically. 

"Can you make me a breakfast burrito?" Chris asked, still scrolling through the article. "What is so bad about this that you wanted me to read it?"

"Did you click the right article? 'Life and Style'?"

"Nobody reads that garbage."

"Forget your highbrow NPR-listening, elitist tastes for a second and humor me. I don't have tortillas. So, no. No burritos."

Chris quickly tapped out a search and saw exactly what he didn't want to see: "Hello, Lovers! Armie Hammer steps out with new beau after multi-million dollar divorce settlement." He sped through the entire article, which only mentioned his own name in passing and didn't even have the movie's title anywhere. It was exactly the kind of coverage that Chris didn't want.

"That's not good," Chris said.

"It didn't do much better on 'Cosmo' or 'Us Weekly,'" Armie added. "It's just a few. I think it's okay. It could have been worse."

It very well could have, Chris thought. No matter how hard he tried, how many accolades he managed to earn and what he was actually putting out there, there was someone who'd only see him as an opportunist. It was a reality he couldn't avoid, even though every word he wrote was an effort to get past it. 

"I'll call my editor later," Chris said. He glanced over at Armie, who had given up on cooking anything, but had managed to brew some coffee. Their eyes met: blue and brown, Armie wanted to know everything was fine. He'd done everything that he could to keep both of them away from stories like that, but people liked sensationalism. It was bound to happen. "It'll be fine," Chris finally said. "The movie got good reviews. That's what matters."

"You're taking this much better than I thought you would," Armie said. 

"Can't change what's already out there," Chris said. "I'm sure everyone did their best to spin last night however they could."

"We're going to have to get some food."

"We're going to have to stop by my house, I don't have any clothes."

Armie groaned as he walked towards the sofa. "You live too far away."

"All I have is last night's tux. You have clothes at my place. Too many clothes."

Settling down on the couch, Armie pulled Chris onto his lap, pressing their foreheads together as his hands settled on Chris' lower back. "We're not having this talk right now. Clothes. Houses. This is the first day I can let everyone know that you're mine." Armie nipped at Chris' neck to prove his point.

Chris ran his fingers through Armie's hair, doing his best to inject some order into the wild strands. "We've been seeing each other for months." His stomach growled and he let out a soft chuckle. 

"Months? It's almost been a year," Armie said. 

"Feed me," Chris said, squeezing at Armie's shoulders and ignoring his gaffe. "Get dressed and take me home. We can get something quick on the way."

Armie rolled the windows down as he slowed the car. Chris' neighborhood even had a certain scent. It was salty ocean air mixed with eucalyptus. Huge trees grew up and down Chris' street, the medicinal tinge of green spiking the air whenever there was any sort of breeze. Armie hadn't noticed it before, even though he'd been around so many times. "Pull into the driveway," Chris said before chugging down the last of his coffee. 

Still wearing Armie's clothes, Chris wrangled his suit from the back seat before heading to the front door. Armie was a few steps behind him, Chris' dress shoes dangling from one hand and his own coffee in the other. "I signed for all of your packages," Jake said as soon as he saw Chris approaching. He was sitting on a planter, sunglasses obscuring his eyes as Chris stood motionless. 

"Thank you," Chris said automatically, feeling a cold shiver spread through his body. "Have you been here long?"

Jake shook his head, "You weren't answering your phone. I figured you were sleeping off last night."

"It's in my suit somewhere," Chris said. "Died last night. I didn't think to charge it."

Jake's jaw clenched. 

"Hey man," Armie said, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. "Good to see you again."

"Maybe under different circumstances," Jake said to Armie before turning to Chris. "I wanted to congratulate you. So, congratulations."

"Should I go?" Armie asked.

"Come inside," Chris said to nobody in particular, fumbling with his own keys.

"Next time," Jake said, watching as Chris tossed his clothes into a heap on the floor. Stunned, Armie stepped back. He never imagined it would happen this way. He'd run the situation over and over in his head--the whole meeting-the-ex situation--but even in the most outlandish situations, it never ended up like this, with Chris wearing his clothes and a heap of congratulatory bouquets waiting to be unboxed. 

"Stop. We need to talk."

"Yes, we do. But not now. I'll say things I don't mean."

"You don't mean that."

"Call me," Jake said. Without another word, he walked away.

Sighing, Chris gathered up his crumpled tuxedo and headed upstairs. "You shouldn't have had to see that," he said when Armie stepped into the bedroom, his eyes soft and a look of sympathy on painting his face. "I'm sorry."

"We've all got history," Armie said, sitting down next to Chris on the bed. "Yours just happens to be chronicled in 'Us Weekly.'"


	12. Chapter 12

"Armie Hammer." It took everything inside him to not mention that his last name was on a building at the other side of campus. "I'm with the band, that sort of thing," he added.

"It's a safety precaution," the young woman said, her eyes scanning up and down an iPad. "I know who you are, but we can't let you backstage."

Armie felt a hand grab his and he turned around, a slightly flustered Chris somehow made it through the crowd. "All done."

"Thanks for trying," Armie told the ersatz gatekeeper. "I guess my work here is done."

"Sorry about that," Chris said. "I got out as fast as I could."

Armie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it. Let's get out of here."

Chris had just spoken on a guest panel at UCLA. It wasn't his first time, but it was the first time Armie had actually seen him do it. Knowing him better than most, Armie could tell Chris was nervous, his toe tapping the stage and his knuckles white as he gripped the microphone. But as he and the other writers got rolling, Armie watched him relax, delivering a few anecdotes about working with actors and then explaining his decision to adapt his own books. Personal connection or not, Armie was rapt, feeling the passion radiating off the stage as Chris spoke. "It's important to inspire the youth of America," Chris had joked. "Right before you tell them all that being a dentist is a better idea." He was a pro at combining actual advice with some humor.

"What a way to celebrate our anniversary," Chris said as they walked down the steps at Royce Hall. Armie had reminded him that morning, though each of them assured the other that they hadn't made any actual plans. Chris' speaking engagement made any sort of celebration impossible.

"It could be worse," Armie said. "At least we're together."

"Always looking for the positive," Chris said. "When I was in school, I'd go to these things because I had to for class. Now, the kids just want to hear about the movies. Creative writing and screenwriting aren't the same, but for them, it might as well be."

"You could have inspired the next Nora Ephron. Maybe a new Joan Didion or Cheryl Strayed."

"Nope. I'm sure they all thought I was some old guy that's completely out of touch. They were probably looking for you the entire time," Chris said. It had certainly been the case when he'd done these things with Jake. It was easy for Jake to look inconspicuous, however. For Armie, with his perfect posture and imposing frame, it was nearly impossible. It was like that no matter where they went. Even if people couldn't actually identify him, Armie stood out and drew attention to himself. Chris wondered if he took advantage of the fact, dressing like James Dean in leather jackets and blue jeans one day and channeling Steve McQueen the next. He didn't ever attempt to go incognito.

"People aren't asking for my autograph," Armie said. 

"Because people want selfies now, not signatures."

"They want you to sign books," Armie clarified. "So, some things do stay old school."

A short drive later, they were sharing a pizza and Armie was looking over a wine list. Chris watched the cars speed by outside, Armie's free hand rubbing his thigh under the table. "I should just get a beer," Armie decided before gesturing for the server. "This is nice. Finally getting some time together."

"I appreciate you promoting the movie," Chris said. "I won't complain about that. But I know it's exhausting."

"Peroni, please," Armie told the server, subtly rolled the "R" before flashing his mega-watt smile.

"Can I get a Pellegrino with that?" Chris asked. He held Armie's hand still under the table as it inched up his leg. Jake had always preferred sitting across from each other. Armie always insisted that they sit side-by-side, always ending their meals with an arm around Chris' shoulders. 

"I do have something for you," Armie said. "But it's just a gift, not an anniversary gift."

"We agreed on no gifts," Chris said.

"Just take it," Armie said as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a key on a black ribbon.

Chris didn't have a response to that. Somewhat shocked, he held the key looked up at Armie's blue eyes. "Key to The Castle?"

"I want you to move in. It'll cut down on my commute." Thankfully for Chris, the pizza and drinks arrived before he could respond. "I can take care of it," Armie said as the server started to divvy up the pizza. "Thank you."

"I need to think about it," Chris said. "I have a house. I like my house."

Armie took a long sip of his beer. "Keep it. You can rent it out. I've wanted you in my castle for months. It's taken all my willpower to wait until now."

"I need to think about it," Chris said again. "I love you. I really do." He dropped his slice and held onto Armie's hand. "It's not a 'no.'"

"Think about it," Armie said. "You never make things easy."

"Pizza's real good," Chris said, letting out a soft laugh. "If everything was easy, what would I even write about?"

Armie held his glass up for that, feigning a toast. "Here's to you making the smart move." Chris leaned on Armie, getting even closer to him. "I do have something else."

"Don't push it."

Chuckling, Armie squeezed Chris' knee under the table. "Fine. I'll save it."

For the next week, they saw each other every day, but Armie didn't bring up any mention of the move. Instead of dwelling on it, he reveled in the domesticity of cooking Chris' pre-packed delivery meals, taking nightly walks along the canals and just doing nothing at all. It wasn't a trip to Grand Cayman, but to Armie, it was just as good. Chris hadn't brought up anything about the big move, but Armie wasn't going to push it. Without the movie looming over them, things seemed easier, more relaxed. Plus, they didn't have to hide anything about their relationship anymore. That alone made things easier. 

Ever since the incident with Jake, Armie had waited for Chris to bring it up. He didn't. Armie casually asked Chris about his day, wondering if he and Jake ever had the talk Chris had wanted so desperately that day. There was no mention of it. It left Armie feeling unsettled, but he didn't want to shatter the bliss by bringing it up himself. It seemed like Chris had compartmentalized two of the biggest things in his life at the moment, ignoring them completely. 

Armie had always been social, the kind of person who went out every night for a drink or for dinner, someone who talked to strangers at the farmers' market. With Chris, he was content to stay in, perfectly happy to have Chris' head in his lap as the two of them read--he a script and Chris on his Kindle--or hardly working on a 1000-piece puzzle Armie found tucked in a closet. Chris insisted it was for one of Jake's nieces, nieces that he still called his own, but Armie tore it open and started it anyway. It had taken up residence on one end of the dining room table, ignored except for a few minutes a week when Armie tried to piece together an inch or two.

Back at his house, Armie almost always felt lonely. There were memories there, specters of his ex-wife and the conflicts that they had along with the happier family nostalgia, but the space was too big for just one person. He'd hoped that Chris would jump at the chance to join him, but he also understood the trepidation that came with taking that next step. Armie considered redecorating, somehow getting rid of any evidence that Elizabeth had ever been there. It could work. Armie realized as he straightened up his bed that he was starting to feel more comfortable at Chris' house. It was neutral territory for everyone, Armie included. Sighing, he wiped his face with his hands. Hopefully, things would get easier as soon as Chris made up his mind.

"Nick, sell my house," Armie said into his phone, his eyes aimed at the ceiling of his living room. 

"Can't do that," was the only response. "Really. Your parents would kill me." Armie had known Nick his whole life. He was based in New York, but Armie knew that his real estate agency had offices everywhere. He could sell The Castle if he wanted to. 

"He doesn't want to move in. I don't want to be here anymore. There's no reason to keep it."

"You're exaggerating," Nick said. "The Hammer charm hasn't ever failed. This guy must be broken."

"He's definitely broken," Armies said. "But it's not that."

"When am I going to get to meet him? You're keeping him from everyone."

"You're never out here."

"I could say the same for you."

There was a pause. It wasn't often that Armie actually called Nick on the phone, but it seemed right to actually speak. Texting wouldn't have gotten the emotions across. "Divorce, man."

"Tell me about it," Armie groaned. "There's no rulebook for what to do the second time."

"You seem happier," Nick said. "Up until now, at least."

"I thought I was doing everything right. I thought he'd want to move in here." It wasn't that Armie was unaccustomed to not getting his way--things had just seemed to be heading in that direction. Sure, Chris was stubborn, but he seemed to enjoy himself at the house. 

"I don't know what to say. It looks like you found the one person that can actually resist your charm."

"You can be such an asshole," Armie said. "I'll talk to you later. You're no help." He hung up after he heard Nick chuckle. Getting up off the sofa, Armie walked through the living room, shutting off the lights. The house seemed empty and too quiet. It was definitely too big for one person and even with two people it would be overkill. But alone, everything seemed magnified. Armie had never felt so alone in his own house and he didn't like it. As he headed up to the bedroom, he let out a long sigh. There was nobody to hear him, which only exaggerated the fact that he was by himself. As the lights shut off, he wondered just how much longer he'd have to make this solitary trek. Chris would be here tomorrow, which gave Armie one more chance to plead his case.

"I got the steaks," Armie heard Chris from the entryway, followed by the sound of Chris' boots on the hardwood floor. It was enough to make Armie forget all about the emotions from last night. The two of them met in the kitchen and Armie smiled at the sigh of Chris here in his house. To Armie at least, he looked like he belonged there.

"T-Bone?" Armie asked, already knowing the answer.

"What else?" Chris said, unloading the groceries onto the counter. "You want me to start the grill?"

"Come here," Armie said, pulling Chris into his arms. His hands slid down Chris' back and he felt their bodies relaxing against each other. "I'll take care of dinner. You take it easy."

Chris gave a soft laugh, "I haven't done anything all day. I only drove over here and got food. You're the one that needs a break. You take it easy." 

Armie kissed Chris softly, pressing their foreheads together and giving a tiny nod, "I'll take a break." Chris gave him a playful poke on the side and finished putting away the groceries. Armie watched from the family room, lying back with his feet up on the couch.

"Jake told me that we made a mistake," Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter. "I think he wants to try again."

"Say that again?" Armie said, sitting straight up. His eyes were wide and his heart thumped up into his throat. He couldn't believe Chris had tossed that statement out with such nonchalance.

Sighing, Chris made his way to Armie, sitting right by his feet on the sofa. He rubbed at Armie's arches, all size 14 of them and met his eyes. "He told me that the divorce was a mistake. That we could get back together. But I'm here with you."

"Why would he do that?" Armie asked, adjusting himself on the couch so that they were side by side. He rubbed Chris' thigh, willing his heart and his breathing to slow down. "He's crazy."

"Don't say that," Chris said, holding onto Armie's hand. He rested his head on Armie's shoulder and let out a long sigh. "You don't know him like I do. Nobody does."

"You're with me now."

"I'm with you now," Chris repeated. "He hurt me. I can't do that again."

"I won't hurt you," Armie said. "Never."

"We'll hurt each other," Chris said. "That's part of it."

"I thought there'd be a huge blowup," Armie admitted. "I thought you'd choose him."

That was the first crack Chris saw in Armie's veneer. Always confident and sure, there was nothing that broke his composure. Even when Chris saw him with a broken bone, he was smiling and cracking jokes. 

"Do you still love him?" Armie asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Of course I do," Chris said. "But it takes more than that." He turned to nuzzle at Armie's neck. "I love you and I'm here with you."

Armie let out another long breath. Here for how long? In love for how long? That new uncertainty was worse than what he'd been thinking about before.

"I'll make dinner. You can stop worrying." Chris straddled Armie's lap and cupped his cheeks, kissing him one more time.

"I would have fought for you." 

"You didn't have to."

Chris did make dinner, albeit with some supervision. As Armie let the information settle in his mind, however, he counted it as a victory. As Chris watched the steaks on the grill, keeping his tongs off of them but his eyes focused on the searing meat, Armie wrapped his hands around his waist. "What if I move into the Venice Beach house?" he asked.

"You're crazy," Chris said. He reached to flip the steaks, but Armie stopped him.

"Flip them one time. Steaks aren't toys."

"You can't give this place up. I would never ask you to do that."

"You're not. I am asking you to let me into your house. I want to live our lives together."

"But I like the pool here," Chris said. "You can't make me choose."

"I'm serious," Armie said. "If I can triumph over Jake Gyllenhaal, I can convince you to move in somewhere."

"It wasn't a competition," Chris said, finally flipping the steaks, revealing the perfect dark grill marks he'd been hoping for. "You had me that first night."

Armie blushed, feeling color rise not only on his face but his chest, too. Part of him was glad that Chris wasn't turned around to see it for himself. "This isn't the only place I have with a pool," Armie said. "My parents' place in Dallas has a pool. You saw the Cayman pool. Your house has the Pacific Ocean."

"You practically live at my house already," Chris said. "Did you have this planned all along?"

"Give me two for two tonight, Chris. You know you want to."

"Food first, then we can make grown-up decisions."


	13. Chapter 13

Armie loved driving. He felt free on the road, even when it was more stop-and-go than long, winding stretches of asphalt. He gripped the wheel with his hand and zoomed down Pacific Coast Highway, smiling when he saw the speedometer climb up. With so much of his life under the tightest schedules, it felt amazing to just cruise down the coast, with the ocean on one side, sun setting and painting the sky in bright orange. To show his appreciation for a key to The Castle, Chris had gifted Armie with a few hours at the Porsche test track just outside of L.A. That was real driving, Armie thought: no speed limits and cars built to hug the road. It was something he'd never forget. "There are miles to go before we're done," Chris had written in the card. 

But now, as he drove down the eucalyptus-scented streets of Venice Beach, there was definitely a speed limit--25 miles per hour--and reason to keep his urges to push his Tesla to the limits under wraps. Chris was asleep in the passenger's seat. No matter how long or short the drive, he had the enviable ability to sleep in the car, something Armie could hardly comprehend, especially since coffee basically ran through his veins. He reached over and held Chris' hand, hoping that the touch would be enough to wake Chris up, but he had no such luck. 

"Almost home," Armie said, running his hands up Chris' forearm. "You with me?"

"Are the movers still working?" Chris said, his voice gravely.

"Nope," Armie said as he pulled into the driveway. Chris' car, which took up the only spot in the carport, was covered in a thin layer of dust and leaves. Armie made a mental note to get it washed.

"That's good news," Chris said, straightening himself in the car seat. He looked over at Armie, his strong jaw and the hints of gold in his hair enhanced by the light coming through the driver's-side window and smiled. "You're so brown."

"That's what happens when you fall asleep at the pool," Armie said, shutting off the car. Chris went around to grab their suitcases from the trunk and Armie helped him carry them to the front door, carefully treading on the gravel driveway. "Home sweet home," he said. It was the very first day he could call the house his home. They'd spent the weekend in Palm Springs, partly to promote the film at the city's film festival and partly to have professional movers bring most of Armie's things to the house that they were now sharing. The entire weekend, Chris talked about Armie giving up his huge house, his family's house, but Armie didn't see it that way. He was starting over, he said. He wouldn't miss the house. He'd miss out on more if he stayed there, he insisted. Chris was still trying to believe it.

"Oh man," Chris said as he walked into the house. The movers had filled the entryway and living room with boxes. "I thought you said you were just bringing your clothes." Armie's brother, Viktor, was moving into The Castle with his fiancee. Armie left all the furniture there for the two of them, whether they wanted it or not.

"Don't exaggerate," Armie said, already walking past the mess and heading upstairs with their bags. "It's not that much."

"I'll start opening these boxes," Chris said, already overwhelmed. He tore open one of the boxes, which really was just clothes. It was almost voyeuristic, Chris thought. Opening another revealed shoes. Another looked like the contents of Armie's bathroom cabinets. Clothes. More clothes. 

Thinking back to the day at his old place where Chris told him about what had transpired with Jake, the same night that he asked Chris if they could live together, Armie should have expected some trepidation. From everything he'd learned about Chris, he could tell there was an independent streak under the nervousness and shy demeanor. It was obvious, though, that there was a clear dependence on Jake once he entered the picture. That was a long time ago, Armie had to remind himself, and Chris had done some growing up. He was in his 20s when he met Jake. The thought of that alone was enough to give Armie pause. There was no wonder he was taking everything so slow this time. Mistakes were made all around. Chris was doing his best to learn from them, not repeat them.

Chris' upstairs closet had more than enough room for Armie's things. Slowly, the two of them moved the boxes upstairs, Armie sharing a few stories about how most of his clothes were taken from sets, how hard it was for him to find things that actually fit, and how devastating it was for him to have to send back his suits and tuxedos after big events. His stylist, who Chris had met on a few occasions, helped Armie with his everyday clothes, too. Chris found out that the polish and leading-man presentation was manufactured, but it had more to do with Armie's laziness when it came to shopping than about impressing people. He couldn't be bothered to actually shop for himself and his management team preferred that he look kempt. It was worth keeping a big-name stylist on retainer.

Armie hadn't spent much time in Chris' walk-in. He had a drawer, which expanded to two pretty quickly when things got serious, but he was mostly in and out of the space. Chris kept things organized, which wasn't surprising. Adding his things to one side, Armie straightened a few of Chris' shoes. He slid open a drawer and didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Armie's brow furrowed when he saw a small wooden box in Chris' underwear drawer and he blinked a few times when he opened it to see Chris' wedding band nestled inside. It was scratched and dull, but heavy in Armie's hand. He remembered seeing Chris wear it on a long necklace, something that didn't even show under his shirts, but couldn't recall the last time Chris was wearing it. It had either been a very long time or Armie had just decided to block it from is memory. He slipped the box back where he found it and inspected his side of the closet. For now, it would do.

"Everything fit in?" Chris asked as he was fiddling with his phone. He'd been sitting in the bedroom armchair, just a few steps away from the closet door.

"All good," Armie said, leaning down to kiss the top of Chris' head. "I thought you were napping, but then I remembered you did that in the car."

"I put your books on the bookcase downstairs," Chris said. "And some of your other stuff in the office."

"Appreciate it," Armie said as he flopped down on the bed. "Are you worried?"

"When I get sick of you, I'll just drown myself in the canal," Chris joked.

"Then, I'll start a podcast about your tragic, gone-too-soon story."

"Perfect plan," Chris said, finally setting his phone down and getting on the bed with Armie. He snuggled up next to Armie, wrapping an arm around his chest and fitting their bodies together. "So far so good."

Living together wasn't hard for either of them. Armie had spent so much time at the house that the transition wasn't a transition at all. Chris couldn't remember how it was when he'd moved in with Jake, but there was the faint inclination that it was more of a tectonic shift. Just a few days after the boxes had been unpacked, Chris bounded up the stairs to find an open suitcase on the bedroom floor.

"Did Ilaria drop something off?" Chris asked, confused. Ahead of an event, Armie's stylist, Ilaria, usually sent over clothes for him to wear. Chris had seen rolling racks and lots of shoes strewn around Armie's bedroom back at The Castle. 

"We're going to Utah tomorrow," Armie said, nonplussed. He was flipping through a binder that came along with the clothes, showing exactly what went with what for each event on Armie's schedule. "Sundance."

Chris sat down on the bed, making sure he didn't miss anything on his own itinerary. He tapped at his phone and glanced at his email. Nothing. He remembered the film-festival circuit with Jake: long hours at the hotel by himself while Jake had promotional events. It was worse if Jake was on the judging panel. Then, at night, after Chris had spent the day wandering a new city by himself or eating room service alone, they'd go to parties where he felt out of place. It was too much jammed into a weekend and it was definitely not anyone normal's idea of fun. It was work, all dressed up to look like a nonstop party, but it was hard work. 

Just the week before, in Palm Springs, Chris had spent most of his time at the pool while Armie worked for most of the day. Some people would see it as paradise, Chris figured he could have done something similar at home.

"I'm not going," he said, relieved.

"Stop. Of course you are, you're my plus one."

"I'm actually not. I don't want to and I'm not scheduled to."

Armie stopped his shuffling and sat down on the floor, surrounded by plastic garment bags. "I don't understand."

"You go. I stay home. What's not to understand?"

"Why are you fighting me on this? I want you there."

"We're not fighting."

"What is this, then?"

"A scheduling conflict? Work-life un-balance? I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to be excited about going to the Sundance Film Festival with your boyfriend."

Chris paused, looking at Armie's sad blue eyes combined with his look of confusion. Who wouldn't want to go to the Sundance Film Festival? Armie couldn't imagine anyone who would pass up a chance like this. "Can you call Debbie and get me a plane ticket? Is it too late?" Debbie, Armie's agent, didn't care so much for their relationship and all the baggage that came with it. Chris didn't want to push it with her. If Armie wanted him to go, he'd have to do some legwork.

"We're flying private. There's room for you."

"I should pack then," Chris said, getting up off the bed. 

Armie reached for his hand and pulled him down to the floor as he walked by. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Ask me on Sunday."

Armie rolled over on top of Chris, ignoring the suits and sweaters on the floor. Pinning him down on the carpet, Armie looked triumphant. "What's going on? We're on the same team here."

"I know. I'm sorry," Chris said. "I felt left out, I guess." He hoped Armie would believe that little lie.

"I doubt anyone anywhere wouldn't want you around." He leaned down and gave Chris a kiss. "I wouldn't be able to be away from you all weekend."

"Will you pack for me?"

"My pleasure."

Chris wasn't entirely wrong yet. After landing in Salt Lake City, Armie and Chris said their goodbyes to the team from the movie, who shared the tiny, but luxurious, plane from LAX. True to form, Chris fell asleep in the chartered car, making the half-hour drive a particularly quiet one for Armie. "Remember in Palm Springs, how we hiked out and saw the stars at night?" Armie asked as they walked through the hotel.

"And how you didn't know where any of the constellations were? I remember that very clearly."

"You were just pointing and naming astrology words," Armie said. "And then you had an app. It wasn't exactly stargazing."

Chris slid his key card into the door and stepped into the room. "What did you do?"

"I wanted to let you know I appreciated you coming along," Armie said, his hands on Chris' shoulders. "Enjoy yourself."

The suite's dining room table had been set with a small cake beside all of the credentials that Chris and Armie would need over the weekend. Chris walked over and noticed a little box alongside it all. It wasn't a huge, grand gesture, but it was enough to make him simultaneously smile and chide Armie for going overboard.

"Chocolate with white icing. I know what you like," Armie said as he swiped at the cake with his finger. Chris licked the white buttercream off Armie's finger and kissed him square on the lips.

"I'm just going to stay in this room and eat cake all weekend," Chris said. He rifled through the lanyards and credentials, ignoring what he knew Armie was waiting for him to open on purpose.

"I could think of worse ways to spend a weekend," Armie said. His arms were wrapped around Chris' waist and he set his chin on Chris' shoulder, rocking their bodies together. "Open it. Stop teasing me."

"Hold on," Chris said as he took a closer look at their schedules. "You only have one thing tomorrow? And the day off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, did you think I'd really ignore you all weekend?"

He really did, but he didn't say it out loud. Armie had clearly gone out of his way to make this more of a weekend getaway than a work trip. "I didn't know what to expect."

Chris reached for the box and opened it up quicker than he should have. "Armie," Chris said, his voice quiet. "This is a lot."

"It's from the year you were born. Real-life vintage," Armie explained, taking the watch out of the box and slipping it onto Chris' wrist. "It took me so long to track down the right one." At a loss for words himself, Chris let Armie's sink in instead. "My dad helped. He knows a guy."

"This is a lot," Chris reiterated.

"It was supposed to be for our anniversary," Armie said. "But you shot that down and shoved pizza in your face that night."

"I'm sorry," Chris said. "I had no idea."

"You got it now. That's what matters."

"Thank you," Chris said. "I really mean that. It means a lot that you'd think of something like this."

"I love you," Armie said. "As stubborn as you are."

"I love you. Really love you," Chris said, turning around and burying his face in Armie's chest. 

"We have one thing to go to tonight," Armie said. "So we should both get changed."

Chris held tight to Armie's body as long as he could. The world could wait a few more minutes.

By the time they made it to the ballroom of their own hotel, Armie had changed into outfit number one, pants with a subtle plaid pattern, a white button-up that showed the perfect amount of chest hair with the top two buttons undone and a navy blue blazer with bold, bright gold buttons. Chris felt inadequate in his comparably boring all-black outfit. It was the opening night reception and Chris vaguely recognized a few people, but he couldn't really place them. All the other times he went to these events, people were looking to speak to Jake, not him. As much as the film industry had embraced him, it was quick to forget after his projects never seemed to pick up any sort of acclaim. Beginner's luck, Chris figured. 

"I see snacks," Armie whispered into Chris' ear as they posed for a photo together. Armie held Chris' hand--it was his favorite pose for the cameras--and joked with the photographers, using his go-to line, asking if they wanted a prom pose or a silly one to go alongside the serious pictures. None of them ever responded and most were shocked that anyone would even talk to them. Chris made it a habit to shake their hands after. Even back with Jake, Chris found that it was more likely that they'd delete any unflattering photos if he was nice to them.

"I'll get us something to drink," Chris said as soon as they finished at the step-and-repeat. Armie kissed him on the cheek and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Chris wove his way through the crowd, and confirmed the fact that he couldn't recognize anyone. "One beer, whatever you have in a bottle, and a seltzer water with two limes," Chris said as soon as he got to the bar. He reached for his back pocket, but stopped when he felt a hand on his lower back.

"It's nice to see you," Jake said. 

"You startled me," Chris said, frozen. Time stopped. He felt it as he scanned Jake, wanting to make sure that he was actually there. This could all be a dream, after all. It felt like an eternity, Jake's brown eyes looking into his, the scent of Jake's cologne lingering in the air and the two of them so close together. Finally, Chris snapped out of it, landing firmly back in the current reality. He reached for his wallet, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and handed it to the bartender. It wasn't until then that he acknowledged Jake. 

"I saw your name on the panel," Chris said. "Is that a permanent position now?"

"Yeah, honorary. Are you here with Armie?" Straight to the point.

"Yes," Chris said simply. "You shaved."

Jake noticed a glint at Chris' wrist. Jake rubbed at his jaw and cheek. "I know you hate it like this. But it was...I don't know. I just started shaving and this is what happened."

"I don't hate it," Chris said. Armie didn't any rhyme or reason to his own facial hair, so Chris was still getting accustomed to a fully bearded face one day, a stubbly one the next and a totally smooth shave another day. 

"You always liked it better when I had a beard," Jake clarified. "I should apologize for what happened. I can't expect you to feel the same way I do."

"You mean a lot to me," Chris said, noticing the sadness in Jake's words. "I honestly thought you were done with me...with us."

"I thought I was," Jake said. "But I was wrong."

"I read that you were seeing an architect," Chris said. He was immediately embarrassed. He'd basically admitted to reading tabloids. "And Maggie told me," he added, hoping it would redeem him.

"She set us up," Jake said. He turned to the bartender to retrieve his own drink. Jake scanned the room, hoping to be able to change the subject. "Armie's looking for you."

"I should get over there," Chris said, looking over his shoulder. Jake was right. Armie, his head well above everyone else's, was looking around for something or someone.

"Hold on," Jake said, reaching out to grab Chris' forearm. He hesitated for a second. Chris didn't want to make a scene, but he wasn't sure staying right there was a great idea. "Does he make you happy? That's important. For you and for me."

"Very much," Chris said. He paused for a second before adding, "I haven't been this happy in a long time. I love you, Jake. But you said it: we don't work anymore."

"Found you," Armie said as he approached the two of them. He put an arm around Chris' shoulders and took the beer from his hand. "Jake, what's up?"

"Good luck," Jake said. "I finally got a chance to see the movie. It's really great."

"That means a lot," Chris interjected. He reached out and grabbed Jake's hand. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you to see."

"Definitely not," Jake said. Armie watched as Chris seemed to soften, like a wave of relief had washed over him. "But seeing it made things pretty clear."

"It's a movie," Chris said. "A book. A movie. It wasn't exactly..."

"You don't have to explain," Jake said. "I get it."

"I'm glad you liked it," Armie said, reaching out with free hand. Chris looked on as they shook hands. "We're very proud of it."

"You two have a good night," Jake said, raising his cocktail to the both of them. "Excellent work."

"That could have gone a lot worse," Chris said as they worked their way back into the crowd. 

"He'll always be a part of your life. That makes him part of mine now, too," Armie said. "And yeah, that could have been a lot, lot worse."

"Don't exaggerate," Chris said before taking a glug of his carbonated water. "I don't expect you two to be best friends."

Armie led them to the edge of the party, where it was quieter. Far away from the snacks, Chris noticed. He sat down on a settee and Armie joined him, both of them feeling a little lighter after the conversation had settled in their minds. "You smell really good," Chris said, leaning into Armie's neck. His hand rubbed Armie's bicep through his jacket. "And you're so handsome."

"You're making me blush," Armie said, because he really was. "Do you think we've done our due diligence down here?"

"No, not at all."

"Do you want to leave?"

"More than anything."

"Let's go. There's cake waiting for us."


	14. Chapter 14

Jake pushed his fingers through his hair, hoping it would stay back even though the winds were coming in off of the ocean. It was always windy by the beach, he didn't know why he left his hat in the car. He tapped his fingers impatiently as his eyes darted left and right. Chris wasn't late yet, but he was always early, so it was a little odd. Jake had already ordered two coffees and was content to switch between looking at his watch and the joggers.

"Hey, sorry," Chris said as he walked toward the table. "Have you been waiting long?"

Jake got up and gave Chris a hug, patting him on the back. "Just ordered."

"How are you doing?" Chris said as he sat opposite Jake. 

"Can't complain," Jake said, settling back into his chair. Chris was wearing a faded black hoodie that looked oddly familiar. It took a few seconds, but Jake recognized it as one of his. To anyone else, it would have been a sweatshirt, but Jake could tell from the fraying on the cuffs and the chewed-off drawstrings that it as definitely one of his. He wondered if Chris knew. He had to.

Chris took a sip of his coffee, grateful for the warmth. "Your sister told me you were heading to New York."

"Just for a little bit," Jake said. "A play. Maybe two."

Chris was happy for Jake. He'd wanted to do theater for a long time. They'd talked about it on and off, but Jake never really pursued it. Chris smiled at the thought of Jake on stage, nothing between him and the audience. "Can I come see it?"

"I'd love that," Jake said. "I really would."

"Let me know when. I'll come for opening night."

"It's a deal," Jake said. It had been a few weeks since Utah and even longer since Jake confessed that the divorce may have been a mistake. It was definitely a mistake, Jake decided, but it was his own fault for not taking time to figure things out for himself and for Chris. Maggie was right. Chris went along with it because he thought it was what Jake wanted. It took a lot of thinking, but Jake saw it.

"Does that mean I won't be seeing you for a while?" Chris asked. It was already a rare occurrence. 

Jake didn't answer, not sure what the circumstances would be. "No, that's not what it means," he finally said, realizing that his words really didn't mean anything at all. "I'm still figuring out what you and I can be."

Sighing, Chris bit his lower lip and looked down at the table. "Just because we're not together doesn't mean we can't ever see each other."

"It's tough," Jake said. "Seeing you with him. It's stupid. I'm stupid, but it's how I feel."

"You're not stupid," Chris said.

"I used to make you smile like that. We were really happy together."

"We were really unhappy sometimes, too," Chris added. "The good times make you forget that."

"The things I'll always remember involve you," Jake said. "It's weird imagining that happening without you."

"You're already doing it. This play. I won't be there with you," Chris said, his voice quiet.

"I told you that day: I had to go through our problems, then I had to go through it again when I read the book. Then, when I helped you with the recording, it was there again. You shattered me over and over. Add the movie to that, too. Seeing it, hearing it, reading it. You put me through all of that."

"I wrote it to try and get past it. Look where I am now. I'm still not done processing it."

"You're pretty far along, Chris. You've moved on."

"You need to, too, especially since we decided that it wasn't worth it anymore."

"It was more than that."

"We don't need to go into this again," Chris said, feeling his face heating up.

"I'm sorry," Jake said. "I didn't mean to rehash this again." 

"I should get going, I have a deadline," Chris said. He could feel eyes start to well and the last thing he wanted was a public crying session.

"Don't lie to me. You've never had a deadline you didn't finish two weeks before."

"I don't want to remember you like this," Chris said. "The Jake I remember is loving and thoughtful, not hurtful." He finished off his coffee and started to stand up when Jake stopped him. 

"Don't leave it like this. I love you and I want you to know that. That's all I wanted this to be. I'm going to New York and I'm going to be thinking about you."

"I love you, too. I always will," Chris said, hearing his own voice trail off. "But we tried. This is how things turned out."

"Do you want another coffee?"

Chris shook his head. "I'll see you in New York, Jake. I hope we can both figure out how this works by then."

Jake got out of his chair and pulled Chris into a hug. "I didn't mean to make you mad," he said softly.

Chris rubbed at Jake's back. "I'll see you soon. I promise." 

"Do you want a ride back to your place?"

"I can walk."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Chris said. He pressed his forehead against Jake's and rubbed his shoulder. "I'll always love you. I promise that."

"You're making a lot of promises," Jake said. 

"I always keep them."

"Always."

Chris took his time on the short walk home, stretching it out as long as he could to give himself time to think about everything that had transpired. Hands in his pockets, his steps were deliberate and slow. What should have taken no more than 15 minutes took almost an hour. When he got to his own home, he bypassed the front door entirely, choosing to go around to the back, where he ended up leaning against the guardrail at the canal. The water was rippling, the wind keeping everything in constant motion. He looked over to Sebastian's house out of habit and couldn't see anything of note. Without the sunshine, there weren't even joggers out. It was almost too calm. 

"You're back," Armie said as he wrapped his arms around Chris' waist. He felt Chris lean back into him. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear Armie approach him. "I have good news."

"You smell like laundry," Chris said before turning around and hoisting himself up so that he was sitting on the railing with his hands holding onto Armie's shoulders. He nuzzled Armie's neck to confirm his suspicions: Armie's shirt was fresh from the dryer.

"Liz settled for the money. It's done now. Everything. No more lawyers. No more fighting. No more stress."

Chris had almost forgotten about Armie's divorce complications. From the beginning, he assumed it wasn't any of his business. "That's great," Chris said, feeling the back of Armie's neck. "One less thing for you to worry about." He felt Armie's hands slip under his sweatshirt and sliding around to feel the skin on his back. Armie kissed Chris' lips, smiling when he felt Chris' hands cup his cheeks and run thgouth the hair at the back of his head.

Armie slid his hands lower, dipping into Chris' pants. He felt Chris stiffen, but it didn't keep him from pushing things further. Chris wrapped one leg around Armie's waist and reached between their bodies, cupping Armie's dick through his pants. He boldly reached inside, stroking Armie's stiffening cock as he nipped at his neck.

"You want me to get you off?" Chris asked, his voice breathy.

"We shouldn't," Armie said, not expecting Chris to have gone as far as he did. "Not like this."

"I didn't think so," Chris said, giving Armie a quick kiss. He hopped down to the path and headed back toward the house. Armie reached for Chris' hand and chuckled. "Come upstairs. I'll take care of you."

Later, Armie was wandering the supermarket aisles, his forehead furrowed. He canceled Chris' food delivery service almost as soon as he moved in, saying that he'd take care of everything on that front from now on. The only problem was figuring out what to make, especially when he wanted to try everything. 

"Does he like eggplant?" Nick asked. He'd flown in from New York to visit Armie that afternoon. They'd known each other for years Nick could tell right away that something had changed in Armie after he met Chris. The manic energy he was known for had settled a little, his focus was sharper. He was happier, which anyone who knew him could attest to. 

"He eats everything," Armie said, thumb flying over his phone to look up recipes. "Makes it easy and hard."

"Last time I was out here all we had was Mexican food," Nick recalled.

"That's all you wanted," Armie said. "There's no good Mexican in New York. Not the real stuff, at least. Everyone knows that."

Nick couldn't argue with that. "Did he like that Rolex you got him?"

"Wears it every day," Armie said, practically beaming at the thought. He stopped in front of the magazines, scanning the covers. Without seeing anything of note, he kept on walking. "We talked about the house. We're going to stay."

Nick nodded. His team had found a few bigger houses in the area for Armie and Chris to consider, but it looked like the two would be staying put and Nick would have to book a hotel room or crash on the couch when he was in town. "That's too bad."

"The office has a sleeper couch in it now," Armie said. "We don't have people over that much. And Chris doesn't have family. His friends are all here."

"Is it his house or yours?" Nick asked, unable to turn off his broker mentality.

"It's his," Armie clarified. "I'm okay with it. I don't really have a choice."

"You're kidding, right?"

"It's a pride thing for him. I'm not standing in the way of that."

"He could sell it. It wouldn't be at a loss."

"I don't know if he'd be willing to move," Armie said. "I like the neighborhood, too. It's fine for now."

"It just seems like you've given up a lot for him," Nick said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Doesn't feel like it," Armie assured him. "I'm good with things. Really good."

"I'm just saying. I like the guy, but you both are keeping a commission from me."

Armie smacked at Nick's arm, "Chris doesn't get your sense of humor. I don't blame him."

"I'm an acquired taste. I'm also short on my quota this month, so help a guy out. The house is only a little bigger than my place in New York. That's saying something."

"Sorry," Armie said, shrugging. "Can't buy a McMansion just so you get employee of the month. Also, it's not small. What are you even talking about?"

"Can't blame me for trying," Nick said. "But what's next. If you guys are living together, you have to know that we're going to ask when you're going to get married. If you're getting married."

"We haven't talked about it," Armie said. By now, the two of them were just wandering the supermarket to keep the conversation going. Armie had grabbed enough to fill the fridge without really even thinking. Chris ran to clear his mind--Armie shopped for groceries and grilled meat.

"Divorce messes people up," Nick tossed out.

Armie chuffed, "You have no fucking idea."

A few hours later, Chris was lying beside Armie on the back patio's lounger, resting his eyes and feeling Armie's chest rise and fall as he breathed and talked to his best friend. Chris only took in bits and pieces of the conversation, but as he felt the world slow down around him, cozying up next to Armie was the only place he wanted to be

"You guys are pretty cute, I'll admit it," Nick said before taking a sip of his beer. He sat across from the two of them, the table between them littered with dishes and glasses dripping with condensation.

"I just have to keep him fed," Armie joked. Nick had his reservations at first, but he'd never seen Armie pursue anyone with the passion that he had with Chris. Nick thought it may have been the pedigree, but Armie dismissed it. Armie said it was real love, respect, and admiration. Nick rolled his eyes, but saw it right there in front of him. It was clear when Armie ran his fingers through Chris' hair and when Chris pressed closer to him, trying to get as much contact as possible. 

"I had one more six-pack," Sebastian said as he approached the party. He'd gone back to his own house to see if he had any beer stashed away. He walked right past Chris and Armie, setting the beers into the refrigerator before rejoining the guys outside. "This gets old after a while," he said, gesturing at the couple. "One of them will zone out and you end up talking to yourself the whole night."

"That's not true," Chris said, eyes still shut. "I'm listening."

"But you're not actively participating," Sebastian said.

Chris motioned to get up out of his very comfortable position smashed into Armie's contours, but Armie pushed him back down, a soft laugh escaping his mouth. "You're fine. Actively listen from right here."

"You two are too much," Sebastian said. "But like we were saying, as soon as I want to take a vacation, I book a job. I wanted to go to Maui, but pre-production starts in a week."

"Must be tough," Armie said. He had a few auditions, but there was nothing concrete yet. Debbie, his agent, was trying to pivot him into some different kinds of movies, but that meant waiting. Lots of waiting.

"Let me write something for you real quick, Sebs," Chris joked.

"No, no, I have first dibs on that," Armie said.

When the night air got too cold, the group moved inside. Chris couldn't remember ever having this many people in the house at once, but it felt good. He'd grown so accustomed to being a solitary person that four seemed like a full-blown party. It was so vastly different from the past ten years, where he and Jake basically cloistered themselves two hours away from everything. 

"You okay?" Nick asked, noticing Chris zoning out in the kitchen.

"Life's weird, isn't it? I didn't think that I'd manage after everything, but then this happens."

"You come right up to what seems the end of the world and realize that life goes on," Nick said, rummaging through the cabinets for more snacks. "I read that on a takeout menu or fortune cookie or something."

"Knowledge comes from all over," Chris said. "And we're out of junk food. There's guac in the fridge, but you'll have to run out and buy chips."

"Armie would never let the house run out of junk food," Nick said. "Are you sure there's no stash in here?"

"You can ask him if you don't believe me," Chris said. "I usually eat it with carrot sticks."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that," Nick said. 

"We're going to be out in New York soon, actually. I have some stuff I need to do out there in a few months."

"I'll see you on my turf, then," Nick said, grinning. "Going for work?"

"Pleasure, mostly," Chris said. "I haven't really talked to Armie about it."

"Does he ever say no to you?"

"More than anyone thinks. I don't get why everyone assumes he bends to my every whim."

"Because he tells everyone that he'd do anything for you."

"It's a figure of speech," Chris said. "He also says he's a great cook, but we both know he just grills meat."

"Also, what's it like to kiss someone with a beard?"

"I'm used to it."

"That didn't really answer my question."

"You can kiss him and find out. I'll watch."

"It was a sincere question."

"It was a sincere answer, too," Chris said before walking back to the couch. He sat beside Armie and gave him a quick kiss, one of his hands coming up to feel Armie's soft, fuzzy beard. "Feels like a scratchy sweater," Chris whispered, smiling against Armie's cheek. 

"What?" Armie asked, rubbing at Chris' hip.

"Nothing," Chris said. Nick watched them, eating guacamole from the container with a spoon, his eyebrow raised. "I love you. That's all."

"Ready for tomorrow?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

The next morning, Chris woke up in a familiar tangle of long limbs. Armie's frame made for plenty of places to snuggle into and Chris wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of waking up with Armie spooned up behind him or his own body latched onto Armie's side as he slept on his back. He buried his face into Armie's chest, half-trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, but he felt Armie's hand running up his back, so there would be no chance of that. The bedroom was designed to catch the morning light, so neither of them made a move to get out of bed just yet. The soft light shone through the gauzy drapes, casting a glow over the two of them. "You awake?" Chris heard. Armie hadn't moved his body at all, but it was clear he wasn't asleep.

"No," Chris said, pulling Armie even tighter to him.

"My head hurts," Armie said, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Did I drink too much?"

"Guess we can't go," Chris said, half-joking. He ran his hand over Armie's chest, feeling the soft hair and firm muscle. Letting out a long, slow breath, Chris finally looked up at Armie's face. His forehead was furrowed and he didn't have the usual lazy smile that he woke up with. "Need me to get you anything?"

"No," Armie said automatically. He sighed a second later. "Yes. We should get ready, anyway."

"Stay here," Chris said as he peeled himself off of Armie and got out of bed. The cool air hit him suddenly, but he wasn't one to start the morning at half-speed. He picked up his last night's underwear from the floor and slipped them on before heading downstairs. 

In the kitchen, he grabbed a can of seltzer from the fridge and a bottle of Advil. Glancing outside, he could see Nick sitting on the patio, right where last night's festivities started. He was wearing a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head. "Did you get some coffee already?" Chris asked from the back door. 

Nick held up his mug, not even turning around to face Chris. "Armie just got up."

"Cool."

"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Chris said. Not getting any sort of response, he went back up to the bedroom. Armie was sitting on the edge of the bed and gave Chris an appreciative look when he saw what was in his hands.

"Feel okay?"

"I will," Armie said, downing two pills and taking a healthy chug of the fizzy water. He rested his forehead on Chris' abs, chuckling when he felt Chris' hands try to smooth his hair down. It was wild, which wasn't unusual for the morning, but Chris' gentle touch wasn't going to do anything to the tangles. "You're so good to me."

"Hardly," Chris said. "Nick's in a mood downstairs."

"Don't worry about him," Armie said. "We've got to get to my brother's place."

"Then you've got to shower," Chris said. "I can grab your clothes."

"My head," Armie said. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably have someone else nurse your hangover. C'mon,' Chris said, pulling Armie to his feet. 

Hearing the shower run, Chris made short work of gathering up their garment bags and shoes. The commute wouldn't be so bad on a Saturday morning, so there was no rush just yet. "Feel better?" Chris asked when he joined Armie in the shower. He ran his hands over Armie's shoulders, watching as his body slowly came back to life. He pushed Armie's hair off his forehead and kissed him on the lips, tasting toothpaste. 

Armie's hands came around to Chris' waist and he held their bodies close, feeling the hot water run down their skin. "You're the best."

Chris' lips were back on his, but both of them knew there wasn't time to linger in the shower. With his migraine, Armie wasn't even in the mood, but the combination of the water and Chris' body on his just felt so great. Chris jumped slightly when he felt Armie's finger at his hole. It was still sensitive from the night before, but he groaned into Armie's wet neck as he felt the dull stretch and jolts up his back from fingertips tapping his prostate.

"Can you cum from just my fingers?"

Armie shuddered when he felt Chris' hand stroke at his dick. Armie jabbed another finger in and Chris popped up onto his tiptoes, whimpering against Armie's throat. Massaging at his prostate, Armie could almost feel Chris coming undone. Knowing that he'd fucked Chris the night before and seeing just how reactive he was being, Armie didn't want to push things too far, but he could feel his headache fading away with every groan he pulled from Chris' mouth.

"You can," Armie whispered. "I know you can."

Chris tugged at Armie's balls and stroked at his thick cock, trying to distract himself from the potent mix of pleasure and pain coming from his hole. Legs quivering, Chris worked to squeeze his ring around Armie's fingers. His whole body felt like a live wire, water cascading down over him and Chris, the steam intensifying their heavy breaths. Chris was shaking, struggling to stay on his feet, but Armie pushed him against the wall of the shower and fucked his fingers in quicker, twisting and scissoring them as he kissed Chris' neck and jaw. 

"Armie," Chris said, half-groaning. "I'm close." Armie bit down on Chris' collarbone and pressed hard on his spot, eliciting a deep, loud grunt from Chris' throat. Feeling his hole clamp down, Armie could tell Chris was cumming, even as the running water washed away all evidence of his orgasm. A few more jerks of Chris' hand and Armie was shooting, too, a shiver going through his body as his oversensitive dick rubbed against Chris' side.

Steadying himself, Chris felt at his chest and shoulder, catching his breath as he felt the sting of water on open skin. "Nobody will see it," Armie said, his blue eyes awash with worry. "Got carried away."

"It's fine," Chris said. "You just surprised me."

Making quick work of cleaning themselves off, the two of them got dressed in a daze, Armie still feeling a dull throb in his head and Chris hoping they didn't leave anything behind. Nick was waiting for them downstairs as they gathered their things and got ready to leave.

"Is there a bagel place around here?" he asked as they packed up the car.

"Not as good as anything you've got at home," Armie said. "How about a breakfast burrito? They're more Chris' thing."

"When in Venice," Nick said.

"You have a burrito," Chris finished the thought for him. "Are we late?"

"They won't start without us," Armie said. "Don't worry about it."

An hour later, Armie watched as Chris stood in front of a full-length mirror, smoothing his tuxedo jacket over his chest, the deep blue cloth looking crisp against his white shirt. Their eyes met in the reflection and Armie could see Chris blush slightly. They were in the guest bedroom at The Castle, which was already full of commotion. Florists, caterers, coordinators: the whole house was buzzing. "You look amazing," Armie said. Chris was just grateful none of the evidence from Armie's overzealous affections showed over his shirt.

"Help me with the boutonniere," Chris asked, handing Armie a deep purple calla lily. 

Armie pinned it to Chris' lapel, smoothing the shoulders of his tuxedo and kissing Chris softly on the lips. Chris took stock, looking himself up and down in the mirror one last time before taking a step back to focus on Armie. It was almost too much to take in. His height, combined with his dark blond hair and blue eyes, made Armie look like a real-life Adonis. Add a tuxedo to that and Chris almost had to remind himself to breathe. 

"Is Nick already out there?" Armie asked. 

"Everyone out," Chris heard from the coordinator. Before he could even voice a protest, he and Armie were being ushered downstairs. 

"I haven't even seen my brother all morning," Armie said, holding Chris' hand as they walked out to the backyard. Chris stopped at the back door, just like he'd been told earlier in the week, and surveyed the whole scene. The yard had been transformed. There were rows of white chairs. Cascades of white flowers and lanterns hung from the trees and people were milling around, looking for seats and greeting each other. The pool sparkled and even though it wasn't a huge yard by any means, it seemed made for something like this. Chris could see Nick outside, speaking to Armie's parents. Viktor, who had come down to join his groomsmen, looked flushed when he hugged Armie.

"Congratulations," Chris said as he was pulled into a similar bear hug. "It looks great out there."

"I hope so," Viktor said. Chris could feel the anticipation radiating off of him. "You're next. Angelia and I both think so."

"No, no," Chris said, shaking his head. "Let's get you out there."

Armie pulled his brother into another hug, quicker this time, and made his way to the back door. "Ready?" he asked Chris. He grabbed onto Chris' hand and the two of them made their way outside. Chris was surprised at the intimacy of it all. He'd assumed the wedding would be a huge production, but having it at the family house made sense. Everyone felt at home and Chris just felt swept up in it all. A harpist started strumming Pachelbel's "Canon in D" as Armie and Chris strode down the makeshift aisle. Armie was grinning from ear to ear, but Chris could already feel the emotion welling up inside him. 

He tried to stay stoic, but he could feel the prick of tears in his eyes. He held Armie's hand tight as they walked past the Hammer family and a few friends. When they got to the end, Chris was reluctant to let go of Armie, but he took a deep breath and took his spot. There was a small arbor of branches covered with gardenia and greenery, where the officiant stood. He caught Armie's hand again and used his other one to wipe a few of the tears from his eyes. "Are you okay?" Armie whispered as he leaned over.

Chris didn't answer, but took a slow breath and straightened himself, doing his best to be presentable in front of everyone. The ceremony itself was a blur, but Chris was grateful that Armie didn't let go of his hand. Chris didn't even realize it was over until he heard the harp music start up again and felt a gentle tug from Armie. Everyone was clapping and smiling for the newlyweds, paying no mind to Chris and Armie as they retreated to the other side of the yard.

"What's going on?" Armie asked. He wiped at Chris' face with his pocket square. 

"I don't know," Chris said. "Just feel really emotional."

Armie pulled him close, rubbing his back. "Take your time."

Everything seemed to bubble up at once. The talk with Jake. The wedding. Viktor's joke and Nick's attitude. Chris didn't know why he was feeling so sensitive, but everything came together to form the perfect storm.

"I'm fine," Chris said after a few minutes. "Don't let me get everyone down."

"Talk to me," Armie said. "You don't just cry for no reason."

"Your parents probably think I'm insane," Chris said, giving Armie a weak smile. "I must look like a mess."

"Don't worry about that. What's going on?"

"I feel like I can't give you what you want. I saw how excited you were about this wedding," Chris said. "Then, I had a really bad talk with Jake. Nick has been weird. I don't know. I'm letting you down."

Armie shushed Chris and pulled him close again. "Nick is just in a bad mood. He's the only one left. Everyone's paired off but him," Armie explained. "And all I want is to be with you. You're overthinking things again." 

"I heard you talking to your parents about getting married the other night," Chris said. "We've talked about that."

"We were just talking," Armie said. "My mom just gets going. She loves you just as much as I do. Get out of your head. I'm not asking you to do anything."

"I hope they just think I'm the sort of person that gets emotional at weddings," Chris said, finally composing himself. He wiped his face with his hands.

"Maybe you're a little crazy," Armie said, giving a soft laugh. He led Chris by the hand back to the celebration and hoped that the festivities would be enough to push any worry to the back of his mind.

All it took for Armie to start dancing was two flutes of Champagne and one best man toast. After he'd thoroughly embarrassed his brother and before their lunch entrees even arrived, Armie was embarrassing himself on the dance floor. He and Viktor did their best to dance along with the DJ's tunes, but it was all flailing limbs and off-beat spins. Chris joined them, maybe just to draw the attention away from Armie, but definitely to just feel Armie's hands on him. 

"You're having a lot of fun," Chris said, finally smiling. There were more people coming out to join them. Chris figured that everyone was finishing up with the food, because the DJ started playing more up-tempo songs.

"It's a day for celebration!" Armie said, the enthusiasm almost knocking Chris over.

Chris pulled Armie in for a kiss, which seemed to bring a round of applause from everyone in attendance. "Let's not take the spotlight away from your brother," Chris said, his hands on Armie's neck and shoulders.

"You're right," Armie said. He led Chris away from the dancefloor, undoing his bow tie with his other hand and unbuttoning his shirt. 

"They're still taking photos," Chris chided. Armie ignored him, settling down at their table and pulling Chris into his lap.

"My dad told me that the secret to marriage is to keep your partner happy. Not in those exact words, but you get it," Armie said. "That didn't work the first time, but I think keeping you happy is a good idea."

"Generally speaking, I think that your dad is right," Chris said, moving to his own seat, only to have Armie pull him back. Nick was seated at the table, too. He didn't look amused. "You should eat something."

Armie grabbed another flute of Champagne instead, downing it with a flourish. "I'm good. You're driving home anyway."

"And even though you said that you didn't ever want to get married again," Armie started.

"Stop, stop," Chris said, his eyes wide. "Don't say anything about that. Not today."

"Get him some water," Nick said from across the table. He looked more amused now than he had before, Chris noticed. "He may have had some shots when you weren't watching."

Armie grabbed his water glass at the simple mention of it. "We should be dancing," Chris said to both of them. He turned to look at the guests, who had all abandoned their meals and try their best at the electric slide. Armie jumped up and was back out with his relatives, finally letting Chris sit down in his own chair.

"You guys are good together," Nick said. "It's nice to see."

"Thanks," Chris said, moving over to sit in an empty seat next to Nick. "That means a lot."

Nick half-shrugged. "He was in a bad place before you. I'm glad you were there for him. I tried."

"It's tough when you're across the country," Chris said. "It's hard to hear some things from your best friend."

"He never listens to me, anyway," Nick added. "But things turned out okay for the both of you."

"So far, so good," Chris said. Armie was dancing with his mom now. Even though he was encouraging Chris to join them, he sat with Nick and wondered when they'd get some cake.

"You really aren't going to marry him?"

Chris shook his head. "Not doing that again. As fun as this all is," he said, motioning to everything around them, "it's just one day."

"That's not a very positive outlook."

"I've lost a lot in my life," Chris said. "I don't want to add one more thing to that if the newness of this wears off for him. Things are good the way they are."

"Also not the greatest way to look at things," Nick said. "But don't let me kill your vibe."

"I shouldn't be talking about such depressing things at someone's wedding," Chris said.

Nick started to say something, but caught himself. Telling stories from Armie's wedding probably wasn't a great idea. If Chris wanted to know anything about that, it wouldn't take more than a quick Google search. 

"Look," Armie had said a few months ago. "We've got bad records, but that doesn't mean you should forget about the idea entirely. If we're together in a few years, what if you look back and you think about all the time we wasted."

Chris had let that thought sink in, but he didn't mention it again. He'd decided that he didn't want to be someone who'd gone through a divorce, but he couldn't do anything about that. Now, he did have some control over being a two-time divorcee. No second marriage meant no second chance at feeling like a failure. Armie left well enough alone. He didn't bring it up again.

But in the months and weeks leading up to Viktor's wedding, it was on both of their minds. Front of mind, but neither of them spoke about it. Armie figured that Chris had made up his mind and he was starting to accept that maybe another wedding wasn't in his future, either. He'd always seen himself as a married man.

"Dance!" Armie said, coming up to both Nick and Chris.

"Did you eat anything?" Chris asked. "I don't think more Champagne is going to help your hangover."

"I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"You mean I'll deal with it," Chris said.

"Nag, nag," Nick said, shaking his head. "Looks like you two have this whole old-married-couple thing down."

Armie pulled Chris up out of his chair, though at this point, there was little resistance coming from Chris now. He joined Armie out on the floor again, though the DJ had slowed things down. Chris slid his hands up to Armie's shoulders and let him move their bodies together, swaying with the music. Their heights didn't allow for cheek-to-cheek slow dancing, but they did their best.

"Having fun?" Armie asked. 

Chris leaned up and gave Armie a kiss. He'd deal with the second wave of Armie's hangover and everyone else's expectations tomorrow. Now, right in this moment, he'd just dance with the man he loved.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Chris swung his arm under the sheets, hoping for something warm to cling onto. Armie wasn't there. Groaning, Chris finally opened his eyes and the realization that he wasn't in his own bed shot him back into reality. Sighing, he pulled the blanket tighter around his body until he saw his niece doing her best to stay quiet as she puttered around her own bedroom.

"It's okay Ramona, I'm up," he said, his voice still heavy and raspy with sleep.

"It's still early," she said, keeping her voice low.

"I'm up," Chris said, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the bedroom. There were the typical trappings of 11-year-old life. A few posters on the wall, plenty of pastel purple pillows scattered around the floor -- flung off of the bed while Chris tossed and turned, of course -- and a carefully curated assortment of toys and books that straddled childhood and adolescence. 

"Sorry I took your bed," Chris added. "You know how your parents are. Are they in the kitchen?"

Ramona nodded. "I'm just looking for my backpack."

"Are you coming with us tonight?"

"Dad won't let me see Uncle Jake's show until the weekend," she said, finally finding her knapsack. She stood triumphantly and strapped it on. With her school uniform on, she looked like a miniature adult. Chris couldn't believe it. He remembered when she was just a toddler.

"Have a good day at school. I'll see you later, Ro."

She gave him a quick hug before heading into the hallway. He could hear her alerting her parents to the fact that he was awake. He couldn't make out their muffled conversation, however. Chris grabbed at his phone and tapped out a message to Armie. He was in Toronto. He had been for almost two months now.

"I don't fit on a full-size bed anymore," Chris said as soon as Armie called. Back when they were together, Chris and Jake squeezed into that same bed. Half of Armie's body would hang off it, Chris thought.

"I wouldn't think so," Armie said. The sound of his voice was so comforting that Chris could feel the warmth spread down his back just from hearing it. "Everything good?"

"I can't run on a few hours of sleep like I used to," Chris said. "Red-eyes are for the young."

"Don't exaggerate," Armie said. "You do it all the time."

"Not by choice," Chris said, fully aware that it was, in fact, his choice. He booked his own travel, after all. It was quicker to leave in the middle of the night, to get to Armie as quick as he could every chance he could. He'd forgo a few hours of rest to sleep in the same bed, to feel Armie's lips and soak in the familiarity of just being together.

"Really, is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. Maggie and Peter are fine. Girls are good." Chris said, finally getting to his feet. His ex- sister- and brother-in-law had made him cancel his room at the W Hotel. Family bonds seemed stronger than marital ones. They wanted him under their roof. It had been five months since he'd seen Jake and they had that windy talk at the coffee shop. They'd spoken since, but Jake had to prepare for the play in New York. Though it was unspoken, they both blamed geography for not getting together and ignored the fact that Jake had called the divorce a mistake. Chris' stomach fell just thinking about it, so he did his best not to. Ever. 

"You still there?" Armie asked, breaking up the awkward silence.

"I should get ready," Chris said. "I miss you. A lot."

"Call me back when you've got your coffee." There was another pause.

"Sorry," Chris said. "I'm still out of it. I'll call you soon."

A few minutes later, Chris was sitting at the Sarsgaards' dining room table, his legs pulled up to his chest as he idly stirred his coffee. Peter had gone to walk Ramona and Gloria to school, so Chris was alone with Maggie. They'd always been close, but Chris had felt them growing apart since the divorce. Maggie had insisted that nothing had to change between them and Chris did his part to keep things as normal as possible, but it still felt strange -- even more now, since Armie was in the picture. There was no official protocol for this. He'd have to write a letter to the Emily Post Institute. 

If only he could write. Since Viktor's wedding all those months ago, he was struggling with a major case of writer's block. He was grateful to have a few stories to flesh out, but he couldn't put together a solid idea without it fizzling out. He'd occupied himself with shorter projects, but part of him was afraid that another novel just wouldn't come. To say that he'd been prolific in the last decade would be an understatement. Critics would say that he had put out so much material so that something -- anything -- would stick with readers. For every success, there were stories that would be instantly forgotten. Chris chalked up the lack of focus to his overactive imagination. But all he had to show for his upcoming work was a journal filled with half-baked ideas and incoherent scribbles. 

"I'm going to call the hotel later," Chris said, interrupting whatever Maggie had been talking about. "Ramona shouldn't be sleeping with her sister."

"They're kids, Chris. They think it's fun," Maggie said.

Chris wrapped his hands around his coffee mug and frowned. "It doesn't feel right anymore."

Maggie leaned over the table. "You don't have a choice," she said matter-of-factly. "He told me what happened. I don't think it's a good idea. I'm on your side here."

"I hate that you had to explain to Ramona what divorce even was because of me. I don't like that seeing them reminds me of Jake."

"That's not what seeing them has to do to you. They're in school. They have friends with divorced parents. You weren't the ones that brought that into their lives."

Chris sighed. "It doesn't feel right to stay here when I'm not with your brother. That's all."

"You shouldn't feel that way. But I can't make you stay, even though I want to." 

Chris didn't want to push the subject, but waking up and seeing the things that reminded him of his past was as tough. It felt like a lifetime ago and being surrounded by the photos, the familiar places, and a family that wasn't really his family anymore for longer than necessary might break him. "Thanks," Chris said. He never had an older sister growing up, but it was moments like this that made him grateful to have someone like Maggie to step into the role. He knew that she was coming from the right place, but he wasn't sure that he could keep up appearances around the kids.

"Have you read the play?" Maggie asked, finally sitting back in her chair.

Chris nodded. He'd read it as soon as Jake brought it up. He read it again it the evening before his red-eye flight. "It should be good."

"This is weird," Maggie said. "It shouldn't be."

"It is very weird," Chris said. There was no other way to describe the dynamic between them. During his last trip, things hadn't changed at all. Chris had slept in the same bed, ran around with the girls, and had a great time when they all got Italian food together. This time around, Chris could barely look Maggie in the eye. "I'm afraid that I'm letting Jake down. But I don't want to hurt Armie, either. Things happened so fast with Jake that I didn't even realize it was done until we weren't living together anymore. Then, Armie happened. And Jake said he wanted to get back together and I felt like I broke his heart." His words seemed to spill out of him, coming out fast and unencumbered.

"But what did you want?"

"Jake was there when I lost my house. When I couldn't get anyone to take my weird experimental books seriously, he was there. Then, I lost him. If that happened again, I wouldn't be able to take it."

"Armie is really good for you. We can all see it," Maggie said. "Nobody is asking you to give that up to make Jake happy. Jake's lost right now, but it's not your job to go back to him just because he asked. You have to want it."

"I thought I did," Chris admitted, half to himself and half to Maggie. It was hard to hear the words come out of his mouth. "I thought it was all I'd ever want. But it wasn't."

"I've heard it from both sides," Maggie said. "And I don't know what's going on with either of you. You made it work for a long time."

Chris gave a weak shrug. "Can't say I know what happened, either. I don't think about it, because when I do, I just get...upset. Or sad. Grief, you know?"

"It's your life. Make sure I'm a part of it, though. I didn't have a say in the separation."

'Sometimes, I feel like I didn't, either,' Chris wanted to say. But he kept that inside. It was far enough in the past where it just felt petty at this point. He nodded, "I was stubborn, too. Takes two people to screw things up."

"There's no bad guy," Maggie added. "That would make things too easy."

Chris spent the day trying to write. He walked to the park and a coffee shop, but only a few loose ideas came out. After Ramona and Gloria Rae got home from school, he walked them to dance class, where he watched them plie and jete for an hour. All the while, he spoke to them like they were adults, something he knew Ramona liked about him, and explained that they might be spending less time together. Gloria Rae, who was only five, seemed more concerned with the glittery Mary Janes Chris bought for her. When Ramona heard that her Uncle Chris wouldn't be making his usual holiday visits and maybe cutting his long summertime stays short, she retreated into herself. Chris could actually see her shrink away and he immediately regretted his straightforward approach to it all. For a second, the thought that getting back together with Jake for these girls might make not be the worst idea.

"I'll still see you, I promise," Chris said. He could see how important it was to Ramona and, in turn, how important it was to him. "It'll just be a little different."

"I liked it when we went out to California," Ramona said, her eyes still turned toward the ground. "That was fun."

"I'll take you to Disneyland next time," Chris said. "I've been meaning to go."

The mention of Disneyland perked her up. "What about Disney World?"

"That's not in California."

"I know. But you and Uncle Jake haven't taken us there."

Chris felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. They'd taken Ramona to Disneyland and the beach down in Laguna. She'd spent weeks at a time with them. The thought of losing that wasn't only affecting Ramona. "We can go to Disney World," Chris assured her. "Tell your parents I'll take you."

They were back at the house by the time Chris had promised a trip to Disney World, a milkshake date, and a return trip for Halloween and her dance recital. 

"I may have scarred her," Chris told Peter and Maggie as they were getting ready for Jake's play. "Send me the therapy bills."

"She'll be fine," Peter said. "We're all still processing things and you can't afford everyone's therapy bills."

"Did you guys see this in previews?" Chris asked. 

"Just once," Maggie said. Chris stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Peter spoke to the babysitter and Maggie kissed her daughters on the top of their heads. It was a well-choreographed dance. "You'll like it," she added. "It's not as dark as everyone thinks."

"Do you pick these roles on purpose?" Chris asked Jake after the show. They were alone in his dressing room and Jake was washing off his thick stage makeup. It took a lot to make someone look like they weren't wearing makeup, Chris noticed. "It's like you want to make me cry."

"I wanted to be in 'How to Succeed in Business,' but they weren't casting," Jake said, pulling his shirt off and putting on a fresh T-shirt. Chris watched the muscles in his chest and abs flex as he pulled it on. "I thought it was good to work on something this raw. Really get back to the essentials. It's not easy every night, but it's really great for me."

'Get 3,000 miles away?' Chris wanted to ask. 'Put a continent between what he'd said about possibly getting back together?' He kept his mouth shut. 

Jake put both his hands on Chris' shoulders. "I appreciate you coming out," Jake said. "Did you like it?"

"Every minute. It was good to see you out there," Chris said. 

Jake smiled and gave Chris' shoulders a squeeze. It was the same smile that Chris saw when they were together: slightly crooked, the corners of Jake's eyes wrinkling and a sparkle coming from the clear blue. "That means a lot."

Chris pulled Jake into a hug, feeling his back and shoulders. It was, as he feared, getting slightly unfamiliar. He even got up on his tiptoes out of habit, but slowly lowered himself to find himself forehead-to-forehead with Jake. "You think we're going to be okay?" Jake asked quietly. "Maybe if I think about what I say before I say it?"

"I think so," Chris said. He really believed it, too. After seeing how much the girls would miss him, he wanted to make sure that some things didn't change. "Maybe if I keep everything away from...the story of us."

"That was tough, I'll admit," Jake said. Chris wondered when Maggie and Peter would come backstage, but the figured they were probably giving him some space.

"You know I had to get it out," Chris said, pulling away from Jake and sitting down on the loveseat. He looked up at Jake, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You're lucky to have a way to get your feelings out," Jake says. "And I'm lucky that I get to see our relationship in every possible medium."

"Still doing that?"

"It's what happens when I don't slow down," Jake said. "Sorry."

Thankfully for the both of them, there was a knock at the door. "Hold on," Jake said, slightly louder than necessary. "I mean it," Jake said to Chris. "I'm not going to lose you as a friend, too."

Chris reached out and held Jake's hand. "You can't get rid of me. I'll do my best not to make things weird. You don't have to meet Armie or anything."

"Yeah, definitely not ready for that yet."

One quiet afterparty and two cab rides later, Chris checked into his room at the W Hotel. Jake had been in good spirits, which wasn't unusual when his family was around, but Chris could sense a lightness about him that was definitely new. By the time he'd settled into his room, it was late. It was definitely too late to expect Armie to surprise him with an impromptu appearance, even though Toronto was just a short flight away.

"I want to be there with you," Armie sent via text.

It was almost pointless, since Chris was set to fly up to meet him the next day. Sitting on the bed, he half hoped that there'd be a knock on the door and he'd open it to find his very own giant boyfriend on the other side. It's what would have happened if his life happened to be a movie, but the only thing he'd have to keep him company tonight was the sound of the street below. 

"You doing okay?" Armie asked, his concern evident over the phone.

"I thought I was going to lose my family," Chris said. "But...the kids and Maggie and Peter. They're all good. I'm good."

"You always think the worst possible scenario is the only one," Armie said. "Give people some credit." Chris stared at the ceiling. Hearing Armie's voice was enough to have him relax. "Did you call Nick?" Armie asked.

"He was busy," Chris said. "Seeing him without you would have been weird. I was dealing with some stuff." His relationship with Armie's best friend had improved after Viktor's wedding, but they were still a ways away from hanging out without Armie around, too. Chris was convinced that Nick had some sort of resentment toward him. On top of everything, it also felt too late for anything genuine to happen. If they were going to be friends, it would have happened by now.

"It doesn't get any easier, even after all this time," Armie said. "But Nick's a good guy. Can you give him a chance, please?"

"He'll like me if we buy a house from him," Chris said, sighing. 

"He's kidding about that," Armie said. "Half-kidding. Maybe."

"I'm falling asleep," Chris said, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed. "Why aren't you here?"

"I was given specific instructions not to surprise you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Chris said, sighing. He reached to shut the lights off when he heard a soft knock at the door. He shot out of bed at the sound and rushed to it, a sleepy smile on his face and the phone still pressed to his ear. "You're the worst, but I love you," he said to Armie through the phone. He opened the door and froze. 

"Jake," Chris said, his eyes wide. 

"Chris?" Armie asked. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Jake's here," Chris said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"You can leave me on the line, I don't mind," Armie said.

"Stop. Bye. Have a good night," Chris said before hanging up. The requisite 'I love you,' would have been too much for the present company, he thought.

"I didn't mean to ignore you at the party," Jake said. "I just thought it would be easier for the both of us."

"Right after what we talked about it?" Chris asked. He shut the door behind Jake, who had made his way to the hotel room's one armchair.

"Maggie told me how good you were with Ramona," Jake said. He looked tired and drawn, like he'd had one too many glasses of wine or maybe one too many slices of garlic bread. "I remember that, too. It made me think about how they're going to want to spend time with us. Together."

"They'll figure it out pretty quick," Chris said. "I'm assuming that you'd introduce them to the architect."

"Not for a while," Jake said. "But I know we can't pretend to be together just for my nieces. That's crazy. I feel bad for them."

"I do, too," Chris said. He sat down at the foot of the bed. "But I told them about Armie. I explained to Ramona that we're not together anymore. She knows what's going on. She knows that we're divorced."

"She's a kid," Jake said. "I don't think she can really get it."

"Jake, why did you come here? You're not expecting me to change my mind about everything."

"I missed you," Jake said. His eyes were focused down at the carpet. "Everything that happened earlier just felt so right. But I know that you've made up your mind. I've made up mine, too. I'm here now, though. I'm here and I don't know why. "

"It's different now," Chris said. "It's not ever going to be like it was. And it shouldn't be. We're not together because we couldn't be together without things getting messed up."

"Should I go?"

"You can't stay," Chris said quickly. "That's for sure."

"It's good to see you and spend time with you," Jake said. He didn't make any motion to leave. While he'd been there for mere minutes, it felt like time had stopped for the both of them. They refused to make eye contact, fearing that the intimacy of that simple act would bring up even deeper-seeded problems. Chris sat on the end of the bed, his eyes scanning Jake's familiar form, taking everything in from his messy hair and his clean-shaven face to the same beat-up old boots he'd worn for years. Chris sent them out to be re-soled so many times that he'd lost count. 

"It's really hard when you're out here," Chris said. "Back at home you were avoiding me. It felt that way, I mean."

"I wasn't," Jake assured him. "Not on purpose, at least."

"Armie and I are getting really serious, Jake," Chris finally said. His eyes were still turned toward his feet and the carpet on the floor. "I can't mess that up."

"I get that. I'm not asking you to do anything. I thought about it, but I think it's clear now that we're done," Jake said. He made his way over to Chris and pulled him up into a hug. "I let you go too soon. I hurt you. Now, I have to live with that."

"You need to move on from it," Chris said, pressing his cheek against Jake's. "We both have to."


	16. Chapter 16

"She treats me like I'm an orphan. I know they don't mean to, but let your mom know that I'm aware that I don't have a family of my own."

"You don't have to get mad," Armie said. "She's trying. You're not the most open person."

"Parents love me," Chris said. The crunch of the gravel driveway didn't do much to tamp down his voice, but as he opened the front door, the house seemed to echo his words. "It's just that your mom is overbearing."

"I won't argue with that," Armie said. "But I'm stuck with her."

Chris kept his mouth shut. He had plenty more to say after this visit to Dallas, but it was better all around if he just stayed quiet. He rifled through the mail that Sebastian had set on the counter, feigning interest. 

"She loves you," Armie assured him. He rubbed at Chris' shoulders as he peeked over at the pile of mail.

"Do you want me to go to the grocery store with you or should I stay here and start some laundry?" Chris asked. He needed a distraction, something to keep his brain from jumping from thought to thought. He'd managed to get some ideas down after his case of writer's block, but now they were coming too fast. He could barely decipher his own notes. He sensed that if he couldn't rein things in, things wouldn't turn out well for anyone. It was part of why he'd been so crabby in Texas. There was too much happening between jotting in his journals and family obligation. Plus, he saw a picture of Armie and Elizabeth in the Hammer house. It normally wouldn't have fazed him, but something about that old wedding photo hit him hard.

"You want me out of here? We just got home."

"No. No, sorry," Chris said. He turned around and leaned against the kitchen island, finally facing Armie. "I'm sorry. I'm being an ass."

"Yeah, you are. I know you're having trouble with your stuff, but you've to relax a little."

Chris took a deep breath. "I have an idea. Too many, actually. Maybe we can talk through them later?"

"Of course," Armie said as he ran his hand down Chris' cheek. "Anything to get you back on track." Chris blinked quickly a few times. He hadn't told Armie -- or anyone else -- that he'd been struggling. "If you think I can't tell, you really are going crazy. You've got a routine. I know you're not okay when you're giving yourself so much free time. You didn't lock yourself up for two hours a day, what was I supposed to think?"

"That I was spending time with you?" Chris asked. "To see Dallas?"

Armie's expression softened as he pressed their foreheads together. Chris tried to look away, but he couldn't keep his own gaze off of Armie's. Chris felt smaller than he usually did when Armie wrapped his arms around him. He towered over Chris without even trying. Chris found his spot, face buried in Armie's neck, his hands running over Armie's shoulder blades, their chests pressed together so that every curve and nook matched up as best as they could.

"My dad liked seeing that watch on you," Armie said softly. He stroked Chris' hair as he spoke. "He didn't see it at the wedding."

"He was probably distracted," Chris said. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He'd been distant to everyone during the trip and took the Hammers' hospitality for granted. He wanted to do it all over. "God, I was such an asshole."

"Don't worry about it," Armie assured him. "I'll let them know you were going through some creative stuff. They don't understand anything about that."

"I should call them and apologize," Chris said. "I'm going to go upstairs. Did you let them know that we made it home?"

"Nope. You call them and I'll take care of the laundry and the groceries."

"I won't argue with that," Chris said. He gave Armie a quick kiss and untangled himself from Armie's arms. "I'm really sorry. You know I'm not like that."

"I know, I know. I told you not to worry."

Armie watched as Chris walked slowly through the house and disappeared upstairs. Leaning against the counter, he took stock of everything. The both of them were tired from the plane ride, but Chris was definitely beating himself up over everything. Rest, Armie thought, would do him some good. Even though Chris had slept through the entire flight, Armie could tell it was restless. For the past few weeks, Armie could feel him pulling away, feel him struggling with everything from his creative process to everyday life. Armie didn't know what to do. Deciding to ride it out, he hoped that time would be enough. 

He stepped out of the back door and waved when he saw Sebastian across the canal. A few minutes later, the two of them had met halfway. Together, they leaned over the bridge's rails, the water calm below them. "He's working through some stuff," Armie explained. "But I think it's better now. I don't actually know how he writes big projects."

"He doesn't talk about it," Sebastian said. "But I think it's pretty intense. He doesn't do anything halfway."

"I asked him," Armie said. "He said he couldn't explain it."

"If you want to know, there's probably only one person who lived it and you probably don't want to touch that."

"Not ready for that yet," Armie said, sighing. "Never will be. Every time we've ever met has been tense. I'll ride it out."

"When you two started seeing each other, I thought that he was in a big project."

"Movies are different. I didn't see how different it would be, but it's like he's drowning right now."

"You'll be okay. You'll both be okay," Sebastian said. 

Armie nodded. "I think the critics got to him. They liked his book. The movie didn't get as much attention."

"It got plenty of attention," Sebastian said. "He probably didn't like being called a literary Taylor Swift. But I don't know what he expected."

Armie rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. "That was pretty rough."

"Write what you know," Sebastian said sarcastically. "Write what you know and you'll get eaten alive."

"His first book was not about something he knew. I don't know what to tell him. I'm not a writer," Armie said. Then, he recited one of the harsher critiques: "Have a subscription to 'People?' You'll know the story." 

Sebastian cringed. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes," Armie said, genuinely happy that Sebastian changed the subject. "My dad got me some cigars. We should smoke those later. It was good to kick back with my parents. They wanted to spend time with Chris. That didn't exactly work out but it was fine."

Armie watched a pair of mallards swim under the bridge. He took a step to the other railing, leaning back against it and facing Sebastian. "I told my mom that I was going to marry him."

Sebastian's eyebrow jumped up. "What did she say?"

"That I need to think about it. She likes him, but she probably thinks I'm crazy."

"Aren't you a little crazy?"

"I'm a lot crazy, but this is what I want," Armie said, motioning at the house. "I want a life with him. I don't want him to write a book about our relationship, but I do want him with me."

"Good luck with that," Sebastian said, patting Armie's shoulder. "I really mean that. You'll need it."

Chris felt Armie before he saw him--the bed dipping around him, the feel of Armie's face nuzzling at his neck. Chris' eyes fluttered opened and Armie was on top of him, skin warm and the smell of cigars lingering. When their lips met, Chris could taste the tobacco. He'd fallen asleep with a notebook, but he saw out of the corner of his eye that it had been carefully put on the bedside table.

"Feel better?" Armie asked. 

Chris nodded, grinning as he felt Armie's shoulders. A few rough outlines had turned into a clearer one and he'd mapped out a story. It was still very much an idea, but it was more direction than he'd had in weeks. A little bit of real-life conflict was all it took, which scared him. He pushed the thought aside when he felt Armie's hand reaching under his T-shirt before pulling it up over his head. Skin, to skin, Chris melted into the familiar feeling of Armie's scratchy chest hair and his lean frame.

He kissed down Chris' chest, tongue flicking across a nipple as his hand dipped into Chris' underwear, a shiver shooting up Chris' entire body. Chris hissed, grabbing Armie's head, fingers tangling in his thick blond hair as Armie moved lower, tongue swirling around the head of his dick. Armie pulled off Chris' underwear, tossing it aside as he took as much of Chris' cock in as he could, feeling Chris stiffen above him, shuddering as his throat squeezed his shaft. He closed his eyes, sliding Chris' dick in and out of his mouth, pulling on his balls lightly as he sucked hard, moans and grunts filling the bedroom as Chris tensed, the heat in the room enveloping the two of them just like Armie's hot mouth on his cock.

"God, Armie," Chris grunted, neck straining as he threw his head back, toes curling as he shuddered. Armie let up on his cock, feeling is pulse as it left his lips, swollen and pink, glossy with spit. Armie stroked him, hand firm and steady as he watched Chris, breaths quickening and body flushed.

"Close?" Armie whispered, slick fingers still sliding up and down Chris' dick. Chris could only nod, breathing labored and body tensing, "Good," was Armie's only response, a finger sliding, slick and fast, into Chris' hole. 

He watched, eyes rapt, as Chris' entire body went rigid, his jaw slack as his eyes slammed shut. Armie took his dick in again, another finger poking into Chris' ass. Seeing him, just seeing Chris go crazy made Armie's dick rock hard, pearls of pre-cum sliding down his shaft. He could feel Chris holding on, trying as hard as he could to hold it in, but he knew exactly what to do. Armie's fingers were sure and confident, sliding in and poking at Chris' prostate, fingertip swirling around, gasps and shudders falling from Chris' lips. Armie knew what to do to draw it out, too, sliding off Chris' dick to flick the tip with his tongue, lapping at the tight sac, making sure to bring Chris as close as he could before backing off. It drove Chris crazy, he knew it did, but he did it every time because he knew Chris loved it, too.

"Let me cum or fuck me already," Chris gasped. Armie slid another finger in, stretching Chris' hole and erasing every thought in his head at the same time. Armie grinned, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he concentrated, Chris' hole squeezing his fingers. Chris' toes curled and mouth was dry. 

Armie could do both, he was sure, crooking his finger and sending another one of Chris' groans out into the air. "Fuck, fuck fuck," Chris was incoherent, his cock pulsing as he squeezed his chute tight, trapping Armie's fingers inside, Armie sliding Chris' cock into his throat one more time. He felt Chris' hands grab his head, fingers tight on his scalp as he let out one last long groan, deep and low, cum spraying from his dick right down Armie's throat. Chris' body shook, his muscles tensing and relaxing, breathing stunted and body flushed. He felt his entire body shudder, waves washing over him, every ripple coming from his dick and Armie's squeezing throat.

Armie sat back and watched as Chris came down, breathing slowing down and his eyes fluttering open to look at Armie, half-lidded. Chris pulled him, smashing their lips together.

"You're amazing," Chris said, lips sliding against Armie's. He reached down, stroking Armie's dick, already slick with pre-cum. Shuddering, Armie pulled Chris even closer, hands roaming down Chris' sweaty back, feeling taut muscle under his slick fingers. Armie pushed him forward and Chris felt the bed against his back, but he didn't have time to even sink into the mattress. Armie maneuvered them so that Chris was turned around, with Armie's lips on the back of his neck. Chris shuddered, a chill creeping up his spine when Armie slid his fingers in again. "You should see yourself," he gasped.

"Get inside me," Chris whispered, urging Armie forward, "come on." He rolled his fingers into fists, gripping at the sheets to keep himself from bucking up off the bed. He could hear Armie shuffling behind him and hands sliding down his back, tongue following his fingers, lips nipping at soft skin. Armie's fingers were still sliding in and out, feeling Chris' hole quivering.

"Ready?" Armie asked, his free hand running circles on Chris' ass. Chris nodded and felt Armie steady himself, gasping when he felt something hot at his hole. It wasn't his cock, though, Armie was still denying him that satisfaction.

Even with his tongue buried deep, Armie could feel Chris' entire body shudder, his hands running over Chris' legs, his tongue alternating between deep thrusts and quick circles around Chris' hole. He didn't have to feel it to know Chris' dick was hard, either. Chris was incoherent, head spinning as he just steadied himself against the onslaught. He felt Armie give one last lick, tongue going up his crack and up his back before he leaned forward, his own sweaty chest resting on Chris' back, his hand sliding back down Chris side to grab the base of his dick.

"Going to make you cum good and hard," Armie whispered, voice gruff and dry, in Chris' ear, feeling him shiver under him. He slid the head of his dick in, his own body almost buckling in half at the sensation, his cock finally surrounded by the tight, hot warmth of Chris' hole. Chris' mouth was open in a silent groan, is back tense as he relaxed his hole, Armie's thick cock stretching him open. His body slowly registered everything, the soft bed against his chest, Armie's hot chest, slick chest on his back, his big thick cock sliding deep into him again and again. Armie's lips were on his ear, nipping and licking the sensitive skin. He thrust hard and steady, every movement sliding across Chris' prostate, his dick sheathed in clutching muscle, their bodies moving together.

Chris groaned, teeth pulling the skin of his own wrist to keep from crying out. It burned, burned deep inside him as Armie slammed in, hand gripping his hip as the other ran soothing passes over his back. 

"Fuck, Armie. I'm going to shoot," he said, voice strained and tight. He squeezed his ass hard, pulling a low growl from Armie's lips, before he leaned down, lips at Chris' neck, sparks flying down Chris' back, thrusts not losing any of their speed or force. Armie felt his own breathing get faster and Chris' entire body get tight and hot. Then, he felt Chris' ass squeeze his dick even tighter than before, muscles spasming under Armie's thrusting body.

Armie's eyes shut tight as he shot, orgasm spooling out into Chris' tight chute, hands grabbing his shoulders for support.

"Jesus," he groaned, resting his forehead against the back of Chris' head, matting the sweaty hairs of his own forehead, "fucking amazing." 

He let out a long sigh, thrusting his dick in deep one more time, sending a quiet whimper from Chris' throat. He ran his hands down Chris' arms, grabbing Chris' wrists tight as he kissed the back of his neck, pink and red from the bites, sucking, and beard burn. He let his breath get back to normal, feeling Chris relax under him, still reveling in the sensations, body quivering every few minutes. He turned his head around, shocked by how blue Armie's eyes looked through his lusty haze, how everything seemed over-stimulating as he came down.

"Stay like that," Chris whispered, "just a little longer." 

Armie nodded, kissing Chris' ear, holding him tight. It felt so good and so right that Armie didn't even want to think about moving.

A month and a very, very rough novel later, Armie had convinced Chris to slow down. Editing took a long time and instead of looking to get everything perfect in one go, Chris could take his time. Much to his satisfaction, David, Chris' editor, was all for the idea. Now, instead of typing for two hours a day, Chris sat on the patio and re-read what he'd written. He read dialogue out loud to Armie while they took their time with their morning coffee. He talked to David on the phone to discuss the plot's progression and worked on character development. It was taking things to a more intimate level all around and Chris took it on as a new challenge.

"It might get overwrought," Chris proposed one afternoon, his laptop open on the coffee table and his phone pushed up against his ear. He was talking to his editor while Armie was on the couch.

"It seems fine," Armie said over his shoulder. Admittedly, he hadn't actually read every single thing that Chris had ever written, but he was working to get there. "I don't think this could do anything bad."

"He's just trying to help," Chris told David. "I don't think the book is ready, but I think that it's almost there. If it's too polished, it'll seem impersonal."

Armie watched Chris pace from the kitchen to the living room, walking the same short path over and over as he spoke. Armie had done his best to get Chris to slow down. From what he could tell, it had worked. He wasn't exactly Zen, but he was definitely less high-strung. He watched as Chris struggled to slip his AirPods into his ears and started the slow process of making coffee while keeping his phone conversation going. Armie watched as he went through the well-rehearsed motions.

"Hold on, I have another call coming in," Armie heard him say. He kept his eyes focused on his magazine, but turned around when he heard Chris mention Jake's name. 

"I'll work on it and send you some notes later today," Chris said before switching his call over.

Armie did his best to eavesdrop, but he was still only getting a one-sided conversation. Chris didn't abandon his coffee or move to the other room, though, which gave Armie some comfort. Even though they'd been together for a long time, the subject of Jake Gyllenhaal rarely made it onto the table. Armie never pressed for any details, since he'd gotten almost all his information from gossip sites. Chris wasn't forthcoming with much, but it was understandable. They didn't speak about Elizabeth, either. But every time Jake's called or his name came up, Armie couldn't help feeling something. 

"Do we have any plans for Saturday?" Chris asked.

"We have the benefit with my parents," Armie said. "They're leaving the next morning."

"We have to choose another day," Chris said to Jake. "I think we're free Sunday. We can do brunch, lunch, or dinner." 

Again, Armie couldn't hear the apparent negotiation. "Sorry," he finally heard. "Another time, then. I'll email you the manuscript." Habits were hard to break. Chris genuinely wanted to know what Jake thought of the book before he went through another round of revisions.

"Come here," Armie said. Chris walked over, letting himself get pulled onto Armie's lap. Chris felt Armie's hands slide up and down his back as he settled into one of his favorite positions: straddling Armie's hips, his hands gripping Armie's shoulders, and their lips barely touching. He let his eyes shut as he took in all the sensations, every smell and touch, the soft sound of Armie's breathing.

"Can you believe that I'm almost finished?" Chris asked, a singsong lilt in his voice.

"I made two movies while you wrote that, don't get too cocky," Armie said, smiling.

Chris bit at Armie's lip playfully before kissing him full-on, their chests pressing together and Chris bringing his hands down Armie's arms, following the straight path to hold his hands. "I'm excited."

"Yeah I can feel it," Armie said, squeezing Chris' hands. He wanted to feel Chris' cock, but held back.

"You have the worst timing," Chris said, leaning back and biting his lower lip. He brought Armie's hands to his mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. He leaned in and kissed along Armie's jaw, up to his ear. His arms wrapped around Armie's neck. "I love you so much. For once, writing wasn't a traumatic experience," Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll send you an invoice for my services," Armie said, his hands going back down Chris' back. "It was a survival tactic for myself. I didn't want PTSD. I also don't want to find myself in any of your books, thank you very much."

Chris let out a chuckle. "You're such an ass sometimes," he said. He nuzzled at Armie's neck, feeling the warmth of his body spreading to his own.

Armie growled, the sound low in his throat. His hands gripped at Chris' butt. "Do you trust me?" he said, his voice deep.

"I already told you we're not doing that," Chris said, groaning into Armie's shoulder as he felt a shudder sweep through his body. 

"Get upstairs. Hands and knees on the bed," Armie said as he pulled Chris' shirt off. "Let's celebrate."

The fact that Jake hadn't said anything about his new book didn't help Chris' anxiety. Meeting Armie's parents had also managed to chip away at his sanity, but this time, with everything happening on his home turf, things seemed to be going more smoothly. One lunch down, Chris and Armie found themselves at a fundraising benefit for the museum that happened to bear the Hammer family name. Although Armie didn't take his position as an honorary director very seriously, all it took was a little prodding from his mother to get him to suit up and show up.

"You look pink," Armie said as they walked in together, hand-in-hand.

"Your beard scratched up my face," Chris said, his free hand absentmindedly rubbing over his cheek. "We should have behaved in the car."

"You look really good all dressed up," Armie added. "Couldn't help myself."

"Let's find your parents," Chris said, already scanning the crowd. Armie smoothed his jacket down and ran his fingers through Chris' hair, pushing down a few errant strands. 

"They're probably at the end of some receiving line," Armie suggested. "They're a big deal."

"You don't have to keep reminding me," Chris said. He wove his way through the crowd -- something easier for him to do than Armie with his six-foot-five frame -- and snagged some water from a passing waiter. He'd done enough of this that he had all the moves down. Stepping over long sweeping trains, dodging women teetering on their high heels, and making sure that he said hello to the right people was second nature by now. Armie watched as Chris went through the night's choreography, waving and smiling with a practiced ease.

"Hey, slow down," Armie said, wrapping an arm around Chris' waist and pulling him close.

"You're not the only one into tuxes, Armie," he said softly. "I won't be able to keep myself from shoving your dick in my throat much longer."

"You've got a dirty mouth," Armie said, his lips grazing Chris' ear.

Chris dipped out of Armie's grasp when he felt his hand straying from his waistband down lower, chuckling as he took a few steps away. "I see your mom. I guess we should behave."

After what he considered to be a disastrous trip to Dallas, Chris felt like he'd redeemed himself with a few phone calls, an apology or two, and a bouquet of magenta peonies. It was too much, Dru had said. Everyone gets into moods, she insisted. Chris assured her that he had been going through work-related stress. And just as Chris was ready to approach her in real life one more time, he bumped into another guest.

"Sorry," Chris said, steadying himself. "It's so crowded."

Armie had managed to get back to Chris' side and clutched at his hand one more time. "Hold on, my dad said that they have some sort of talk with the mayor or something. And you can't be bumping into Olympic medalists. Especially hot ones. It's like you're trying to make me jealous."

"Who?" Chris asked, looking around again to see exactly who Armie was talking about.

"Don't worry about it," Armie said before placing a quick kiss on Chris' lips.

"I didn't think you got jealous."

"I get very, very jealous," Armie said. "I'm just good at hiding it."

Chris knew better than to even think about bringing up his ex-husband, but his overactive mind definitely went there. The very few times that Armie and Jake had met, Chris hadn't noticed any sort of jealousy. Dating actors did have some drawbacks.

Chris almost jumped when he felt another hand on shoulder blade. "You boys may be stealing the attention away from the show," Dru said. 

"Don't exaggerate, mom," Armie said, leaning over to give his mom a quick kiss on the cheek. Chris did the same before standing up a little straighter and slipping his hands into his pockets. Parents loved good posture. 

"Chris, keep my mom company for a second, I'll find dad so we can get out of here."

"Leaving so soon?" 

"Sorry, mom, we've got an early morning tomorrow."

"Christopher," Dru said as soon as Armie was out of earshot. "You're so good together. When the two of you get married, promise you'll come out to Texas more."

"I don't think we're going to get married," Chris said. "We haven't really talked about it."

Dru turned to look Chris squarely in the eyes. "I hope I'm not overstepping, but you need to talk about it."

"Dru, if you know anything, let me know. I'm not really into surprises."

"He wants to marry you," Dru said before Armie and his father approached them. "That's all I know."

Chris felt lightheaded at the statement, but steadied himself and put on a smile. Parents didn't want to deal with neuroses and commitment issues. They just wanted to see smiles.

"That wasn't so bad, was it," Armie asked as they sat together in the back of the car. His hand was on Chris' knee.

"Part of dating a Hammer," Chris said, rubbing at his face. Thinking about what Armie's mom had said had drained all of the energy out of him. The rest of the evening had been nothing more than making small talk with Armie's parents and counting the minutes down to when they could leave.

"Let's get some In-N-Out," Armie said. "Or should we get home? I want you out of that tux as soon as possible."

"Are we getting married?" Chris asked, tossing all pretense out of the situation. The idea of having to get lawyers involved was enough to turn him off to the entire idea. But just because his divorce with Jake had gone so smoothly didn't mean that things would be the same if the situation came again. Chris had to think of himself first, as awful as it seemed.

"I figured there's be more romance in the proposal," Armie said, a grin on his face. "But if you're asking..."

"I'm not asking to marry you," Chris said, his fingertips gently feeling the back of Armie's hand. "I want to know if that's what you want."

"Of course," Armie said. "I've wanted it for a long time. Isn't that where this is going? I've just been waiting for the right time. It's been, what, two years? Two and a half? And my mom...she's from Texas. Of course she wants me to be married."

"I have to think about that," Chris said. "I don't not want to. I just don't know about the second marriage thing. We have to have a serious talk about it. Not in a car. Not when I can taste Champagne on you."

"I can be patient when I have to," Armie said. "Take your time."


	17. Chapter 17

With past releases, Chris had some sort of pomp and circumstance. A signing, maybe. A party, at least. Now that people bought books from the internet, read them digitally, or plain didn't care, there was almost nothing happening outside of a few full-page ads that Penguin had run in the "New York Times," the "New York Review of Books," and the "L.A. Times." If Chris wanted to celebrate, it looked like he'd have to plan a dinner on his own. 

And since it was the first time that Chris would be releasing an actual, real-life book since they started seeing each other, Armie was understandably excited. Movies were his thing and even when Chris was involved in one, he didn't ever consider them to be his own project. As for his regular contributions to literary magazines, those were submitted so far in advance that Chris often forgot about them entirely before they were published. Books, as staid and old-fashioned as they were considered, were Chris' department. Armie insisted that they celebrate somehow. Something had to happen. A low-key dinner for two wouldn't do a book release justice. A low-key dinner for four was out of the question, too. As long as there wasn't a step and repeat, Chris said, Armie could do whatever he wanted. 

"Ten years, six books," Armie said, not really speaking to anyone in particular, since he was in the kitchen and Chris was on the patio, typing away at his laptop. He was making sure that Penguin sent copies to his fellow writers, to some prominent people in publishing, and just a few friends he'd promised. 

"It sounds like I'm a slacker if you say that," Chris said, not looking up from his screen. "At least make me sound good. Also, this isn't some sort of retrospective. I'm not dead. Don't be so serious."

'This is the best thing you've ever written,' Chris read silently. 'Don't let them change anything big. I mean that.' Thanks for nothing, Chris thought. Jake's compliments weren't constructive, even when they were padding Chris' ego. Plus, it was too late now to change anything. The books were printed. It had taken Jake weeks to respond. 'I can't wait to see the final draft. Love reading things when I know I don't have to look for hints of myself. That was fun the first time, but it got old fast.' There it was. Chris kept reading: 'Seeing this new stuff has been amazing. This new direction is exciting and I know that it will open you up to so many great things.'

Chris wondered what Jake meant by "new direction." He instinctively reached for his phone, but fought the urge. Jake had just sent the email a few minutes ago. If he wanted to talk, he would have called. Sighing, Chris tapped a simple reply instead. 'Thank you. Your thoughts mean so much to me. I'm going to have a party for the book. Will get you more info when I get it.'

"Love, Chris?" he said aloud. "XO, Chris. No. Sincerely, Chris. Ugh." 

'Love, Chris.' Sent. 

Chris looked into the house, at Armie rummaging through the fridge, taking a few moments to look at his phone every so often, and then rifling through the cabinets. He didn't know if there was a reorganization happening or if Armie was just figuring out what to make for dinner.

"What if we just have a sit-down dinner at the Chateau Marmont? It's where we met."

"It was the first place we made out, you mean," Chris said.

"It wasn't all I wanted to do, trust me."

"Honestly, can we just do it on the beach and hire a taco truck?"

"Christopher Lewis, of the people. Democratizing high culture with a food truck."

"Yes. NPR darling goes lowbrow via street food. I'm serious. Make it fun." Chris hated when Armie joked about his work being exclusionary. He made sure that public libraries got copies of his books, he didn't want anyone to feel like his writing was out of reach. Whether they wanted them or not, libraries from coast to coast got a copy as soon as the books were released. Chris wondered if any ever got sent back. If they did, Chris' publishers never let him know about it. "You've got a while," Chris noted. "Don't finalize anything yet."

"Got it."

"Can we have carnitas for dinner? For research."

"Let me get a jacket and...the neighbor," Armie said, his eyes darting up over Chris' head to where Sebastian was approaching. 

"Hey, Sebby," Chris said. "Long time, no see. How is Mr. Marvel Franchise doing?"

"One, don't call me that. Two, I slept for two days straight. Three, I heard you say something about carnitas."

"We're walking out to the boardwalk," Armie said. "You know that tiny place with the aguas frescas in the window?"

"I'll treat us all to as many $2 tacos as we can eat," Sebastian said. "But first, you guys have to tell me whether or not you're engaged. I keep hearing about it."

"Definitely not," Chris said, a little too quickly for Armie's liking. "Also, who is talking about it?" he added. "I don't have enough friends to talk about anything."

"No such luck," Armie said as he slipped his jacket on. "Are we ready to go?"

"Sorry about that," Chris said when they were a few blocks from the house. "I didn't mean it like that." He gripped Armie's hand as they walked, Sebastian a step in front of them on the narrow sidewalk.

"I know," Armie said. Chris couldn't tell what his expression was, thanks to the sunglasses he was wearing, but it couldn't have been happy. "But I really do want to know who's talking. I only told my parents that we were even considering it."

"Don't worry about it," Chris said. "They've written worse things about the two of us."

"You don't have to look at your time with Jake like a failure," Armie said. He'd held the thought inside him for so long, he couldn't even remember when he'd first wanted to say it. "I know that's how you're seeing it, but it's not true."

"It's not," Chris started.

"Stop," Armie interrupted. "It is. And I think that's completely normal, but I also think it's normal to move on."

"Let's not fight in front of the kids," Sebastian said, turning around to face them and taking a few steps backward. "'Kids' being me and 'fight' being an actual serious talk."

"I'm in love with Chris," Armie said. "I recognize what I had with Elizabeth and I can say that it ran its course. I've learned from it."

"This is very therapy-heavy," Chris said. "It sounds like a 12-step for getting over a breakup."

"It's from a relationship podcast," Armie said. "I listened to it when I was going through the divorce. There was some actual therapy, too."

Chris was silent as they got closer to the actual beach part of Venice Beach. It was amazing that this was just a short walk from the house, which seemed completely secluded in its own residential enclave. Now, they walked by souvenir shops, the hip coffee places Chris sat at with Sebastian after their morning runs, and the different restaurants on Pacific Avenue. Tourists kept to the boardwalk to get looks at Muscle Beach and the graffiti at the skate park. Locals, at least in Chris and Armie's minds, stayed one block away from the madness, popping into places that weren't on TripAdvisor.

Armie and Chris sat at a table outside, the sun setting over the ocean casting them both in a golden-hour glow. Sebastian went inside to order for the three of them, hoping that the tension would dissipate by the time tacos and watermelon juice entered the equation.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Chris said. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Armie said. "I know that we're both in this. I wouldn't have stayed this long if I didn't want to be with you."

"Tacos, tacos, tacos," Sebastian said, setting down a tray of street tacos. Armie divvied up the food and Chris tried to watch his face for any sort of reaction. "You guys figure everything out?"

"Not exactly," Armie answered. He squeezed a wedge of lime over his plate before tossing it into his drink. "But we will."

Chris was grateful to get food in front of him. It was a welcome distraction from everything Armie was talking about. Sure, it was rational, but it wasn't anything he wanted to discuss. He was content for things to stay just like they were, but when he did let himself think about what it would mean to Armie, he couldn't quite figure out what, if anything, would change. The idea of losing the quiet bliss of having Armie with him was frightening.

He nudged Armie's foot under the table. When Chris' eyes met blue, he mouthed an 'I love you.'

"Give me some of those carrots," Sebastian said, motioning towards a bowl of sliced radishes and pickled carrots. His hands were occupied with a taco. Chris pushed the bowl towards him. There were a few tiny cups of salsa and hot sauce on the table, everything getting passed back and forth as the three of them ate, words muted by chewing.

"This really is the best," Sebastian said as he started on his second taco.

"No, this is the best," Chris said, motioning to the food and everything around them. The smell of the ocean mixing with their food, the fact that the three of them were together, and the sky fading from a blazing orange to its nighttime blues and purples.

"You're the best, you cheese ball," Armie said.

"All it takes is Mexican food to make me forget about serious grown-up business," Chris said, shrugging.

"Then I'll make Mexican every night," Armie said.

"Enough, enough," Sebastian said, already reaching for a third helping. "More tacos, less talking."

Chris was drifting in and out of sleep, his head resting on Armie's chest -- his hand lazily running over his hairy abs one moment and his body pressed tightly against Armie's the next. Armie was reading, Chris saw through hazy, half-lidded eyes and the morning light was still soft as it streamed into their bedroom. 

"You up for real this time?" Armie asked quietly, stroking Chris' hair with his free hand.

Chris shook his head and tried his best to burrow his face deeper into Armie's chest. The past few weeks had been a rush of frantic calls with his editor and Armie's agent negotiating a deal with HBO for a directorial project -- his first time going behind the scenes. The house was so full of stress that Chris could barely remember to eat. Armie seemed to have his phone permanently attached to his ear, doing his best to figure out exactly what could happen if Debbie managed to negotiate something so huge. Was he even ready to direct? Chris thought so. That was enough for Armie to press forward.

"Good news or bad news?"

"No news," Armie said. Chris could hear a tinge of anxiety in Armie's voice. He'd put together a proposal to direct an adaptation of something that they'd heard on "This American Life," going as far as to send flowers to the author of the short story and even invite her out to L.A. It took a lot of time to convince her to sell the rights to her work -- though, admittedly, a phone call from Chris did more good than any sweet-talking. Advice from a writer who managed to make it big was more valuable than a bouquet of magenta peonies. Armie was grateful for that. He'd done everything he could to negotiate it, but all it took was some face time with Chris.

"You got a message from Jake. He wanted to know what you got your niece for her birthday."

"I'll call him," Chris mumbled.

"Do you want to get up?"

"No, no," Chris said. "You feel so good." Armie's finger traced along Chris' ear, barely grazing the skin. His eyes darted back and forth, from Chris' sleepy face to his phone, where he was scrolling through his email and the morning's headlines.

"What do you think about working on the project with me? You never answered me."

"You can't ask me that, I'm still sleeping."

"I need an answer. It'll help."

"You know the answer," Chris insisted. By now, he'd buried his face into the crook of Armie's neck, doing his best to burrow and find some sort of darkness. Armie rolled his eye and pulled Chris up so that he was actually resting his head on his pillow. "I'm late for my run."

"You're the worst," Armie said.

"Of course I'll do it. I will do anything I can. I'll do it for free, even. Who am I to deny you the Christopher curse?"

"Don't say that." Armie leaned down and kissed the top of Chris' head. Chris gave Armie's stomach one last rub before he stretched and got out of bed without another world. Run, coffee, breakfast: Armie knew how the morning routine went. Chris didn't even look at his phone before any of that. It was either discipline or ignorance. Armie didn't quite know.

"Love you," Chris said before kissing Armie's cheek and going to the walk-in closet. Then, Armie heard the jangle of house keys, the quiet sound of the front door shutting, and the house falling into a familiar silence. 

Armie got out of bed a few moments later, sliding on last night's underwear, which had managed to be tossed across the room, and a pair of gym shorts. His morning routine wasn't as regular, but the solitude of an empty house was something that he managed to get every single day. Some mornings, he'd make breakfast for the both of them while Chris was out. Other times, he would make sure to tackle his inbox before Chris got back. Today, he wanted to get everything in order and make one last push. He knew his approach was unorthodox, since he didn't even have all the moving parts under control, but he had been too excited to wait. He was paying for that now, he thought. If he thought things through and packaged everything together, not sending things piecemeal, things would have been better.

He sat down in their shared office, tapping out a few emails explaining that he'd gotten Chris on board, which should get things moving. Debbie was probably sick of hearing from him, so he decided to email her, too, after he basically begged all of his producer friends for more advice. He'd accepted the fact that there would always be a group of people who thought he'd only used Chris to access a new network of people, but in reality, Armie found that being connected to an award-winning writer didn't help open as many doors as anyone thought. It was just as hard to convince people to take him seriously and to get his projects in front of the right people. He couldn't fall back on family connections and other methods to convince people to take him seriously. He needed to grow. He needed to be more genuine. He was going to do this the right way.

By the time Chris was back, Armie was jumping rope behind the house. Chris heard the rhythmic tapping of the rope against the canal-adjacent walkway before his eyes caught sight of Armie hopping up and down, his eyes focused on the water and the rope swinging around him with a practiced ease.

"How are you?" Chris said as he rifled through the fridge for cream. He still had his headphones in from his run and he made sure to speak slowly so that Jake could hear him.

"Hanging in there," Jake said. Chris could hear the fatigue in his voice. It wasn't from a boxing workout or a hike though. Chris knew it was from lack of sleep. "You?"

"Keeping busy," Chris said. "Book's got a lot of pre-orders though. Surprised everyone."

"When is it out?"

"Next month. I'm finalizing everything today. Galleys are already out."

"Send me one?"

"You don't have to ask," Chris said. "Everyone acts like I don't know how real life works."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it. You'll get one. It's pretty different from what you read. Lots of edits. Not lots. Some."

"Can't wait. What are you sending Ramona?"

"Build-your-own dinosaur robotics kit."

"Really pushing that STEM education."

"You make her an artistic bohemian and I'll make sure that she knows she can be an engineer, too."

"She wants to be a photographer."

"She can do that," Chris said. "But she can build robots, too. I'm all about her being well rounded. I take her to museums when she's out here."

"Yeah, she told me," Jake said. Chris heard him yawn. It wasn't even lunchtime on the East Coast and he sounded exhausted. 

"Are you okay? You sound really bad."

"Night shooting," Jake said simply.

"I remember that," Chris said. "I wish I could make it out there for the party. Thirteen is a big deal."

"She knows your book is coming out. And she was just out there, she's old enough to understand. I'll tell her."

"I'm glad you're seeing her more. That makes me really happy."

"It's different out here," Jake said. "But they're closer. It's easier."

Chris turned around and caught sight of Armie, still jumping. Their eyes met and Armie gave him a quick nod, his pace unchanged. "California needs you," Chris said. "Don't get too comfortable."

He heard Jake chuckle. "I'm in it for the long haul, Chris. I don't think I'll be back out there anytime soon."

"I have to go," Chris said. The thought of having Jake that far away was a lot to think about, even if their last few talks were best forgotten. Chris wondered if they could reach some sort of balance between being friends and exes. Maybe it was too much to ask. "I'll talk to you later. I'll make sure you get a book."

They exchanged goodbyes and Chris leaned against the counter, half waiting for his coffee to drip and half watching Armie cool down. His jumps were slowing and he was flushed and sweaty. Chris fought the urge to go out there and lick each drop from Armie's chiseled jaw. When Armie used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing a swathe of stomach, Chris was glad that he had help staying upright.

"Want some water?" Chris asked as Armie came inside.

"Coffee is fine," Armie said, coming over to give Chris a quick kiss. Chris lingered a tiny bit longer than necessary, his lips grazing Armie's for a few seconds. 

"Is it too late for us to fly to New York for a bat mitzvah next weekend?"

"I don't think so," Armie said. "It should be fine if it's just for a few days. Nothing's happening on this deal yet."

"I'll check some flights," Chris said. He ran his hands up Armie's chest to rest on his shoulders and gave him another kiss. "I can't miss my niece's birthday. I thought I could, but I want to be there."

"Then we'll be there," Armie said. Though he never really had to deal with the Gyllenhaals all at once, he'd met them all on separate occasions. By now, he and Chris had been together long enough that any awkwardness that lingered was between Armie and Jake. Everyone else seemed great, Armie thought, especially when they were in L.A. Jake seemed to be harboring his entire family's share of trepidation.

"Even if I need to do some work, it shouldn't be more than a dinner and the party the next day," Chris said. "Plenty of time."

"No, we'll go and celebrate. Don't even think about it."

It was as easy as that. Before Chris could even think about it, the two of them were waiting for a car at JFK, Armie clad in a bright-red Adidas tracksuit, much to Chris' delight and chagrin. "I always forget how cold it is here," Chris said, his hand buried in his pockets.

"Your Californian is showing," Armie said as he loaded their luggage into the trunk of a black SUV. Chris hurried to settle inside the car, telling the driver exactly which W Hotel they were staying in.

"Just landed," Chris said. Armie had to do a double take to see that he was on his phone. "We're going to grab some food with a friend, but we'll see you tomorrow. Tell Ramona that we're excited for her party and that she doesn't have to be nervous about it."

Armie rubbed Chris' knee as they drove into the city. Chris had been alternating between reading and sleeping the entire time while Armie did his best to brace himself for what could happen with the Gyllenhaals. So far, he and Jake maintained a safe distance from one another. This would be the most time they'd spent together away from the obligations that came with being in the industry. With unfamiliar turf and plenty of people who still saw him as the bad guy, the odds were stacked against him.

"Nick wants to get Japanese, is that okay?"

"Yeah, anything's fine," Chris said, reaching for Armie's hand. "I can't believe she's 13 already."

Armie knew that Chris had a life before they met, but it was moments like this that were clear reminders of that. Armie felt a squeeze at his hand. "Tired?" Chris asked, noticing how quiet Armie was being.

"I'm okay. Just need a shower and I'll be good." The fatigue was more mental than physical.

"I know this isn't easy for you. For anyone," Chris said. "I really appreciate that you're here with me. You could have stayed home, but you didn't."

"Where you go, I will follow," Armie said, smiling. "I'm here for you. You know that."

It was a bad time for both of them -- Chris with his book coming out soon and Armie piecing together his very own movie -- but now that they were a continent away from all of that, things seemed a little more relaxed. Chris leaned over to kiss Armie's cheek and as they sped towards the city, the two of them could almost forget about everything happening back at home.

"They couldn't be more different," Maggie said, leaning in close to Chris. 

From where the two of them were sitting, Armie and Jake seemed to be having a conversation, but neither of them could actually hear what they were saying. It could be nothing more than simple pleasantries. Just as easily, it could be actual meaningful conversation. Everyone was celebrating now that the formal part of the bat mitzvah was over at the synagogue. Now, they were all at the Jewish Community Center, which had been transformed to an Art Deco soiree, done up in black and gold. 

The pressure was off of Ramona, who had done her reading without any problems earlier in the day. Everyone could tell that she was ready to have a good time. After nothing more than a quick hug and graciously accepting a round of congratulations, she was happier to be celebrating with her friend, not hanging out with her uncle and his new boyfriend. She and her friends probably knew about the relationship, but were too young to have it on their radars. Their own crushes and personal crises were far more important than celebrity gossip.

"They're not that different," Chris said as he picked at his dessert. "They both goof off when they shouldn't, they both put up with my shit, and they're both movie stars." He paused. "Why do I keep doing this to myself?"

"He's very handsome, I'll give you that," Maggie said, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt. "He's a good guy. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I hope Jake's not giving him a hard time," Chris said, using his fork to motion over to where the two were standing near the bar. "I'm freaking out over here. I want one of them over here right now. I don't know what they could be talking about."

"You don't have anything to worry about. Both of them talk too much," Maggie assured him.

"Probably my mental instability, right?"

"It's small talk. 'I'm in this play,'" Maggie said, lowering her voice in a poor impression of her brother. "'I'm in-between movies. I've always thought of doing a play.'"

"You're right," Chris said. "There's no way they're having an actual intelligent conversation."

"I didn't say that," Maggie said, laughing. "You're in a good place. No, a really great place. Jake will get there, too." She leaned in close and clasped Chris' hand in her own. "We all wanted it to work out, but life's not like that. This is what it is now, so enjoy it. You don't have to feel guilty about anything."

"It doesn't feel right sometimes," Chris said. "Armie is really great. It's amazing. I always feel like I need to be careful, though. If Jake and I didn't work, what makes this any different? I can't go through it twice."

"It's completely different," Maggie said. "You've grown up. Hopefully, you learned something. Actually, I know you did, because I've read through your new book."

"It's fiction," Chris said. "You know that."

"Keep telling yourself that," Maggie said. "But it's all there. I can tell you right now that what you've got with that very tall, very stunning man really works."

"You're the worst," Chris said, finally getting up off his chair. He took a drink of water and turned to face his ex-sister-in-law. "I love you and I hate you. This is what being family is, right?"

"You know it," Maggie said.

Chris walked over to where Armie and Jake were still talking. As usual, Jake was wildly gesturing with his hands, his eyes wide and animated. "This is my first bat mitzvah," Chris said. "And it's setting a very high bar."

"It's pretty great," Jake said. "Compared to my bar mitzvah, this is epic. You know the story. My dad tells it all the time. We volunteered at a soup kitchen. My friends weren't impressed." It was true. Not only was it something that was all over the internet, Chris had heard it plenty of times before.

"She looks up to you so much," Armie said. He wanted to pull Chris into a hug, but a beer occupied one hand and the other was in his pocket. With Jake right there, he knew better. "It's very cute."

"I'm the only person in the family that doesn't make movies," Chris said. "That's probably part of it."

"When she was younger," Jake explained, "We would take her to the observatory and the aquarium, so it was pretty clear from the beginning that Chris wasn't pushing her towards the family business."

"And that's why she latched on," Armie suggested. "You were showing her all the cool things."

"Yeah, and after she basically begged me to come out here, she's too cool to talk to me." The three of them turned their attention to the dance floor, where Ramona and her friends were stationed. 

"I'm sure she's happy you came," Jake said. "Everyone is."

Chris smiled and felt his body relax. Armie was rubbing at his back and Chris wanted to lean into the touch. He watched Jake's eyes dart down Armie's arm and up to his own face, but he made no move. "It's good to finally meet everyone all together," Armie said. "Your family's cool. Mine's boring."

"They are very boring," Chris confirmed. "And I'm sure that they don't like me."

"I'm sure they do," Jake said. "You're too hard on yourself. Parents love you."

"That's what I tell him," Armie said. He finally let his arm run up Chris' back to rest on his shoulder. "What's not to like?"

"Let's not get into that," Chris said. "We don't have all night." There was a heady tension in the air between the three of them. Nobody involved in the conversation could figure a smooth way out, but with no fists flying and everything remaining perfectly civil, none of them were in a rush to sit down, either.

"I'm not going to be able to come out to L.A. for your party," Jake finally said. "So, I have to congratulate you now."

"Thanks," Chris said. "You've already read it, basically. You don't have to come out. We're not even doing anything big." He took a step over to Jake and pulled him into a strong hug. "I can't even tell you how much it means that you read it over so many times."

"I'll always be here for you," Jake said. "Nothing will ever change that."


	18. Chapter 18

"Blue. No, black. I'm going to wear black if we go," Chris said. 

"There's no 'if,'" Armie said. He was swiping in-between two photos on his phone. His stylist had sent them over, just in case.

"Neither of us is nominated. Neither of us was even asked to present. Those invitations were just because you're very famous and I'm famous by association," Chris said, stretching his arms over his head. He settled against the headboard, wondering how many people turned down a chance to go the Oscars. Probably not that many--and he'd done it more times than he could remember. "And you're very, very not ready," he added, his eyes scanning Armie's shaggy hair and untrimmed beard. 

"That's easy to take care of," Armie said. "Did we even RSVP?"

"No, we definitely didn't. We slept through the nominations," Chris said. "Awards season wasn't exactly great to us."

"You got nominated," Armie interjected.

"Yeah, they love me in England," Chris said, chuckling. "That red-eye flight was a nightmare. London is a nightmare."

"Yeah, I don't get that," Armie said as he tapped out a text message.

"It's a long story," Chris said. "I don't want to get into it."

"We have to go," Armie said, finally looking over at Chris, who had his eyes focused on the blue skies outside of their bedroom window. "Why are we even talking about it?"

"Because I like being difficult," Chris said. "But we really didn't RSVP. It might be too late."

"Debbie told them we'd go," Armie said, the relief in his voice evident as he looked at his phone. He rubbed at his chin and cheeks. "I guess it's time to clean this all up."

"I only have a black tuxedo," Chris said. "So unless your girl has a spare, I'm wearing the tux I always wear. Plus, if you're there, nobody is looking at me."

"She will pull stuff for you. She loves you."

"Yeah, she loves when I tell you to stand still during your fittings."

Armie walked over to the bed and kissed the top of Chris' head. "You're a jerk sometimes. But you've got some perks."

"Like how I work for free?" Chris said. He'd already started working on adapting the short story. After they'd jetted back from New York, Armie managed to get some actual face time with HBO and the network said that it was interested, but wouldn't commit to anything until he had a more developed production schedule and a working script. It was a reality check for Armie, who sincerely thought that his name would be all it took to get the project rolling.

"That's one of them," Armie said. He moved onto the bed and kissed Chris' lips. "Enjoy the beard while you can. It can't stay like this."

Chris brought both of his hands up to feel Armie's cheeks and jaw as their lips and tongues moved together. "Good thing it grows back fast," he said, his voice already breathy.

"Book party Thursday. Oscars Sunday," Armie whispered.

"We're skipping everything in-between," Chris said. "It would be in poor taste to eat the free food when we're not up for anything."

"Stop talking," Armie said, reaching up under Chris' T-shirt.

Chris latched onto Armie's neck, feeling his biceps and shoulders as Armie moved their bodies down onto the bed. Their bodies knew what to do, with Chris' legs wrapping around Armie's waist and Armie's hand gripping the hem of Chris' T-shirt to pull it off in one easy motion. Chris arched his back when Armie's shirt joined his on the floor, their chests pressing together, the scratchy feel of hair against Chris' smooth skin sending a shiver through both of their bodies.

Armie brought their lips together again, his tongue sliding between Chris' lips. He felt Chris' hands roaming his back. Armie hooked his thumb into Chris' jeans, feeling him smile into their kiss as he undid the buttons and zipper. It didn't take any effort at all to get them both naked, the process so well rehearsed that they could do it with eyes shut and lips still roaming necks and shoulders, catching each other between soft nips at Armie's collarbones and lingering kisses and bites at Chris' throat. Chris didn't feel Armie reach for the lube, but he gasped when he felt the cool, slick fingers slide into him. Armie chuckled, scissoring his fingers inside Chris as he moved down and licked at his balls. 

"Oh god," Chris yelped out, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. His breaths were long and heavy, his toes curling as Armie's tongue traced up and down his cock, his fingers tapping and pressing at his prostate.

Another finger from Armie pulled whimpers from Chris' throat, the dull ache of stretching was punctuated with pain, but his legs spread apart even more and he could feel drops of pre-cum slipping from his slit. Armie stroked Chris' cock, his tongue moving down past Chris' balls, drawn up tight against his cock, and joined his fingers below. Tongue and fingers working in tandem, Armie had Chris groaning and bucking up off the bed. 

Armie's hand slid to Chris' abs and steadied him, pushing down to keep him still as his tongue darted in and out. His fingers circled around Chris' hole, turned inside him and pushed through the ring over and over.

"Fuck me," Chris said, half a gasp and half a demand. He reached for Armie's hand, the only thing he could reach, and did his best to pull Armie up. He groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as Armie finger fucked him faster, the lurid sound of lube and skin joining Chris' groans.

"Armie," Chris groaned out, his toes curling in anticipation as he felt Armie relent, felt Armie's hand on one side of his head and the weight shifting on the mattress. He knew it was coming, knew that stretch and burn that came with Armie's cock sliding into him. It was familiar now, welcome every single time, but it always pushed the air from his lungs to feel how deep it went, how stretched he felt and how full his body seemed when Armie bottomed out. When Armie's other hand landed on the other side of his head joined the feel of Armie's pubes rasping on his hole, Chris finally opened his eyes to meet the bright blue of Armie's. He leaned up to kiss him, their tongues sliding against each other again, Armie's hips rolling slowly, working his cock deep inside Chris' chute. "God, Armie. God god," Chris' voice trailed off as he worked his ass around Armie's dick.

Armie sucked and licked at Chris' shoulder as his hips moved faster. Chris' legs around his waist urged him to go faster, deeper. Chris clutched at Armie's neck, grunting as his body was rocked with electricity jumping up his spine, Armie's cock raking over his prostate with every thrust.

Sweat-slick skin under his fingers, Chris struggled to hold on, his eyes shut tight as he gripped at the back of Armie's head, hair between his fingertips as he whimpered, no longer trying to hold the sounds in. Armie flipped both of them over and Chris grunted even louder as he settled down on Armie's cock, pushing it that much deeper. He put his hands down on the mattress, the same way Armie had just done and he worked his hips, pumping up and down as he watched Armie's face, his eyes rolling back and his teeth bared as he bit his lower lip. Chris shivered at the touch of Armie's hands, which were grazing his sides one moment and running over his chest the next, only to jump down to stroke his bouncing cock another, sending shocks through Chris' body.

Chris leaned down to kiss Armie, grinding his ass down, burying Armie down to the hilt and clamping down around him. His lips moved to Armie's chest and collarbones, sucking and kissing as Armie's groans fell from his mouth. His hands clamped down on Chris' waist and he did his best to thrust up, his body needing the motions along with the tight heat of Chris' hole. Their damp skin smacked together and Chris nuzzled his face against the coarse hair on Armie's chest, groaning as he rode his cock. Sliding up and down, Chris leaned back, putting the weight on his hands behind him as he rocked, his leaking cock leaving pearls of pre-cum across Armie's abs. Armie's hand closed around it, stroking steadily as Chris moved. 

"You'll make me cum," Chris groaned, pumping into Armie's fist as he fucked himself on his dick.

"Cum," Armie said through half-open eyes. "Cum and don't fucking stop."

Groaning, Chris slammed himself down a few more times, jamming Armie's cock against his spot. He came all over Armie's stomach, whimpering as the orgasm unfurled in his balls and resonated through his whole body. Armie stroked him as he came and Chris fell forward, Armie catching him by the shoulder and turning them over again. Armie pulled Chris to the edge of the bed and held his legs up. Standing over him, Armie pushed back into Chris' pulsing hole, drilling in fast and deep, knowing that Chris post-orgasm tingles would be cut through with the searing stretch. 

Chris' hand shot up to Armie's chest, trying to steady himself, but the force and speed of his hips didn't relent. Armie slammed forward, rocking both of them together, pulling out and shoving in again. Hard and fast, he barreled towards an orgasm of his own, his cock spilling deep inside of Chris' ass. Armie was damp all over, he could feel it. His skin felt hot and he was sure that he was red from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes. He settled down onto Chris, their lips coming together in another lazy kiss. Chris buried his face in Armie's neck, sighing as the stars faded from his eyelids and the beats of Armie's heart slowed down. Chris stroked Armie's back slowly, enjoying the weight on top of him. Armie sighed and reached for Chris' hand, tangling their fingers together as he let his eyes close.

Chris sat at the dining room table, surrounded by boxes. Armed with a dozen sharpies, he set out to sign an entire shipment of books, the signature in each copy getting messier and messier as he signed. Bookplates--glorified stickers, really--used to suffice, but some bookstores were requesting actual books this time around. Armie had helped him crack open the first few boxes, but watching Chris only entertained him for a few minutes. He had his stylist coming over, anyway, so he excused himself to take care of that upstairs.

Thankfully for Chris, his signature had developed into something more akin to a squiggly line than anything legible. When he'd gone by Gyllenhaal, he made sure to include every single letter and ensure that each and ever signature bore the details that came along with what he considered a very distinctive name. Now that he'd gone back to his own name, that pickiness seemed to fade. Most of the signatures were nothing more than a "C" and a few wiggles trailing off to an "S." Two boxes down, 72 books altogether, and a few more boxes to go before a courier picked it all up the next day. 

The sound of Armie's voice booming through the house broke Chris out of his monotonous reverie. Setting his permanent marker down, he made his way upstairs to find a few racks of clothes set up in the bedroom and Ilaria, Armie's stylist, sitting on the floor, pinning his pants.

"Do you like this one?" Armie asked, standing up straighter and flashing a gleaming smile.

"Yeah, you look good," Chris said, leaning against the doorframe. 

Ilaria looked up at him motioned towards the rack, "The last one's yours."

"Thanks," Chris said. "I appreciate it."

"There's a blue one," Armie said, "and a velvet one."

"Can I get you some water?" Chris asked Ilaria, who was doing her best to keep Armie from fidgeting.

"I'm okay," she said, laser-focused now that Armie was standing still. From where Chris stood, Armie looked even taller than normal, his shoulders even broader. It was almost breathtaking, especially with the golden light beaming in from the windows. Chris unzipped the garment bag and peeked inside. "It's pretty bold," Ilaria added, not taking her eyes from the hem of Armie's pants.

"It's white," Chris said, his eyebrow raised.

"Cream," Ilaria corrected. "Like something Cary Grant would wear. Or Daniel Craig."

"It'll need some tailoring, I'll be right there," Ilaria said.

"Let me put on the velvet jacket so Chris can see it," Armie said. "You can do him while I change."

"I think black over blue," Chris said. He slid his arms into the jacket and buttoned it. Straightening up, he tried to stay as still as possible while Ilaria walked around him, inspecting everything. "Let me get some shoes," Chris added, forgetting that he'd need his pants hemmed, too.

"Not the velvet," Chris heard Ilaria say as he retrieved a pair of black dress shoes from the walk-in closet. He changed into the accompanying black tuxedo pants as Armie slid back into the jacket he'd been wearing earlier.

"You look amazing," Armie said when Chris was fully dressed. He felt his cheeks flush at the compliment. Unlike Armie, who had his clothes loaned to him, Chris would have to actually purchase his tuxedo. Designers weren't exactly throwing free clothes at writers.

"So good," Ilaria said, stepping back to stand beside Armie and take in the head-to-toe look. "You look amazing."

"Perfect. Thanks for not giving me options," Chris said as he started to undo the button. It amazed him to know that Armie's styling sessions could stretch for hours for something like a press tour. For an awards show, it was a little quicker, but Chris had never sat around for an entire appointment. "White shirt, black bow tie?" Chris asked. 

"You know how it goes," Ilaria said, smoothing Chris' shoulders and taking one last look. Satisfied, she gave his shoulder a squeeze and turned her attention back to Armie. Chris walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss, feeling his bicep through his jacket.

"I'll be downstairs," Chris said. "You look very good."

"I'm almost done," Armie said. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Quickest session, ever," Ilaria noted. "You managed to keep him from horsing around the entire time."

"Thanks again," Chris added. He took one last look at Armie and went back to the dining room. He sat down and took a closer look at the book's cover. It was simple, with a white background and the title straight across in a red rectangle: "American Made." Below that, there was his name. For the first time in a long time, it didn't include the word "Gyllenhaal." It was hard to take in. Reaching for his phone, he snapped a picture and sent it over to Jake. The advanced copy that he'd gotten had a placeholder design, not the completed version. This was the first time he'd see the real thing. He flipped the book open to the inside flap, too, sending a second photo that showed his brand-new author photo. It was, for once, a genuine smile. Ramona had taken the photo on her cell phone while they were at the observatory. Chris made sure that she got credit for it, her name in tiny text right under the image, which showcased plenty of the L.A. skyline behind his toothy smile. She'd love it, even if Maggie and Peter didn't let her read the book just yet.

'Overnighting you a copy. What do you want it to say inside?' Chris sent along with the photo.

A few seconds later, Jake's message came through: 'Whatever you want. Don't put me on the spot.'

It was a lot of pressure, Chris realized after reading what Jake had sent. He intended it to be half a joke, but even an award-winning writer couldn't convey levity via text message. "Can I get one?" Chris heard over his shoulder. The voice startled him, but was only Ilaria, with two garment bags over her arm. 

"Of course," Chris said, composing himself. "Do you want a signed one?"

"Obviously," she said, smiling. "Did I scare you? You look like a kid who just got caught doing something he shouldn't."

"No, I'm just jumpy," Chris said, reaching for one of the signed books. "Is Armie going to pick everything up tomorrow?"

"I'll send it over with my assistant. Wouldn't want to bug you guys," Ilaria said as she opened it to admire Chris' signature. "Everything should be good to go. Thanks for the book."

Armie was behind her, his arms laden with all of the options they'd passed on. "The rolling rack is already by the door," he said. "Is your car unlocked?"

She reached into her bag and pushed the button on her key fob. The three of them heard a faint beep coming from outside. "It is now."

"Do you need any help?" Chris offered.

"Don't worry about it," Ilaria said. "Thanks again, I'm sure you guys will look great. My job here is done. Done until Monday, when I need to get these back."

"We're actually keeping these," Armie said. "Just in case. Charge it all to WME."

"Then I won't see you Monday," Ilaria said with one eyebrow raised.

"You can charge it to Armie's card, not WME," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "The last thing you need to be doing is charging clothes to your manager."

"Got it," Ilaria answered. "Have a good night, guys."

Armie helped her load up her car as Chris sent his editor a message explaining why a few books would be missing. He figured he'd keep a few at the house in case anyone wanted a copy. That may be presumptuous, he thought, but it was better to be safe. There was no telling if the UPS deliveryman would want to know what all the fuss was about. 

"I was joking," Armie said when he got back inside. Chris was back at signing and Armie noticed his signature was clear again. Armie sat down next to him and helped prep, opening each copy to the title page and sliding it over to Chris, who was ready with his Sharpie.

"You were joking about a lot of things. Plus, I forgot to ask what shoes to wear," Chris said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'll text her later," Armie said. "Is it okay if I read this? Is it too personal?"

"You can read it," Chris said. "It's not about any real people. And you've already read most of it."

"Are you sure it's not about real people? Didn't you tell me that all fiction is a thinly veiled autobiography?"

"Did I say that?"

"Maybe I heard it somewhere," Armie said, grinning. He reached over and ran his fingertips over Chris' knuckles. "Tell me that this movie isn't total shit," Armie said, his voice quiet. "It's hard. Every step is so fucking hard."

"You shouldn't even think about that until I finish the script," Chris said. "I'm doing my best to make sure that it's not shitty."

"Yeah, but do you think anyone cares about this story?"

"That's a risk I take every time I write," Chris admitted. He grabbed onto Armie's hand, tangling their fingers together. "If all these people are ready to support you, you've got nothing to freak out about."

"There's actually a lot of pushback," Armie said. "It started right after we got the rights to the story."

"Don't pay attention to that. Make your movie."

"It might be a miniseries."

"Whatever it is, nothing should stop you from doing it," Chris said.

"You going to finish signing all of these?" Armie asked, letting out a sigh as he looked at the boxes at their feet.

"I have to," Chris said. "Someone's coming to pick them up tomorrow."

"Should I help you or distract you?"

Chris shrugged, leaning over to give Armie a kiss. "I don't mind distractions right now." Armie's hands came up to rest on Chris' shoulders. With a little push, Chris was down on his knees and Armie sighed, his head rolling back and just about everything in his overactive mind drifting away.

The next few days were a blur for the two of them. Armie was calling just about everyone he could to line up commitments for his project, Chris had radio interviews and phone calls to promote his book and through it all, they were both getting prepped for the Academy Awards. Haircuts, final fittings, sending apology emails to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to say that they wouldn't be attending any of the events before the big night--Armie and Chris seemed to be on their laptops and phones more than they were actually speaking to one another.

"Don't move," Chris said, his hand resting on Armie's bare chest as he inspected his throat. "I don't want to cut you."

Armie stood still, eyes focused up on the bathroom ceiling. Chris was cleaning up the edges of his beard with a straight razor, carefully working to ensure a clear delineation between Armie's chest hair and his beard. 

"I'm going to take it up higher," Chris said as he admired his handiwork. He reached around Armie and rinsed the blade in the sink before smoothing more lather over his neck. "Almost done."

Silently, Armie waited, nothing but the sound of their even breathing and the soft scratch of the blade against his beard filling the brightly lit bathroom. Chris worked around the edges, cleaning up everything along the jaw to make things even before took a step backward to check that everything looked symmetrical. "All done."

"Will it look thoughtfully disheveled on Sunday?"

"That's the plan," Chris said as he wiped at Armie's neck with a towel. He ran his fingers over Armie's skin, feeling the clean line and the freshly trimmed hair. He folded the razor and set it down, watching as Armie checked himself in the bathroom mirror. He splashed on some aftershave and leaned against the counter, facing Chris.

"When do the reviews come out?"

"Tomorrow," Chris said. "Penguin wanted to embargo everything until tomorrow. Everyone who preordered the book gets it Thursday. And then at all the Oscar parties, people can discuss how I look and how my book sucks when they're done wondering why I'm even there."

"I don't think most people are going to read all of it before Sunday. It's not short."

"It's not long, either," Chris said. He was optimistic about it. David, his editor, seemed excited about the book. There was enough buzz surrounding it that most people were thinking about it and thanks to some podcast ads, NPR guest segments, and some very short write-ups in "Vanity Fair" and the "New York Times" Magazine, he was in the press enough that people knew that a new book was about to arrive, but not so much that it felt oversaturated. And since Armie didn't have anything going on, he wouldn't be associated with it at all. Chris hadn't prepared himself for some of the harsher criticism when it came to his last book and its subsequent film, but going through a separation and divorce had a way of pushing everything else into the background.

"Are your parents wondering why my book party is at the beach and not at a hotel?"

"They stopped asking questions about your brand of fun," Armie said. "I'm always saying that things are more laid-back out here. You think they'd know that by now. The rest of the world isn't Dallas. My dad couldn't care less."

"Are they all coming?"

"Of course they are. My whole family is."

Chris walked out to the bedroom as sat down in the armchair, mentally checking off everyone that would be there. A few friends, some group from the Penguin office, and some people from past projects were already committed. He was relieved to have the whole event coming together, but it was one more reminder that he was a recluse when it came down to it. He'd been happy to live in this fish tank of a house all by himself and even resigned himself to that reality, which was evident in the fact that he and Armie weren't actually equipped to have overnight guests. If Armie hadn't come into the picture and Jake had told him that there was some possibility of getting back together, he was almost positive that he'd be run back. But Armie was in his life now and Jake wasn't. Things had a way of working out.

Still shirtless, Armie sat down on the bed and tried to figure out what Chris was looking at outside the windows. "Why didn't you dedicate this book to anyone?" Armie asked as he rubbed Chris' shoulder. 

"I did. I just didn't print it in there."

"What do you mean?" Armie didn't expect to have a book dedicated to him, but he knew that all of Chris' books--save his very first novel--were dedicated to Jake. Even the last one, which was definitely a fictional account of their relationship falling apart, had simply read, 'For Jake.' The new book had nothing at all.

"I wrote it for myself," Chris said, meeting Armie's eyes. "But you can't put that in a book. You look like a psycho. But I wrote it for me. I wanted to try something new, to just have fun and see what happened."

"Wow," Armie said, leaning back. "You didn't tell me that when you were writing it."

"It wasn't what I set out to do, It happened, though, and I'm excited about it."

"You deserve to be excited," Armie said. "It's really good. It's something you can definitely be proud of."

"I don't even care what the reviews say. I always say that, but this time, I really mean it. That's more for David's sake than mine. I can't do anything after it's already out there."

Chris felt Armie's lips on his own, he let his eyes close and he reached up to feel Armie's cheek. For the first time in a very long time, he was content. 

"Should we go for a walk before it gets too dark?" Armie asked.

"Not if you have to put a shirt on."

"I have to put a shirt on, but we should get some air," Armie said, rubbing at Chris' shoulder. "I don't think you've left the house since sunrise."

A few minutes later, they were both walking hand in hand along the canals. "This is what real air smells like? I remember it differently." Chris asked, taking a deep breath. Armie let out a soft laugh, but kept his eyes on the horizon, where the sun was painting the sky in searing oranges and deep gold. He turned to look at Chris. Illuminated by the sunset and practically beaming with happiness, it was something to see. With their lives so busy, Armie couldn't remember the last time they were together without something distracting. 

Armie hadn't experienced the whole process of publishing before. He imagined it being different, but now that he'd seen how many revisions it took Chris to finish his book and what it took him to actually write it, he expected more fanfare. Chris was almost Zen in his approach to the release, something that he assured Armie was not normal. He didn't know if it was maturity or Chris finally getting used to the entire circus of a process. With something new to work on right away, he wasn't sure if some sort of creative burnout wouldn't be on the schedule, too. 

They had a set course up and down the canals, crossing the same bridges and peeking into the same houses during the eight-block trek. There was always the lingering look into Sebastian's house, patting the same eager golden retriever on the head as they walked past its house and the usual tourists looking for the perfect selfie. Sometimes, they'd head to the actual beach, adding another block or so, but tonight, Armie felt like it would be business as usual. No complaints there. Armie was happy to stretch his legs, even just for a little bit.

"Do you ever miss Elizabeth?" Chris asked suddenly. Armie felt his breath stall. He made it a point never to bring Jake up in conversation and had been successful on that front for almost the entire time they'd been together. Chris had occasionally asked about his Armie's previous situation, but it was never this direct.

He didn't answer right away. They took a few more steps and Armie felt Chris' grip tighten on his hand. "No, actually. I don't think about her that much at all," Armie said after digging through his recent memory. "Is this for another book?"

"I've never met her. Did you know that?"

"Let's keep it that way. I really don't think any good would come from that." Armie felt Chris lock their arms together as the wind kicked up off the ocean. He waited for Chris to bring up Jake. There was nowhere else this could go.

"I should have put a sweatshirt on," Chris said. They took a few more steps together before he kept going: "You are very good when we have to be around my ex. I don't think I could do the same if I was put in your position."

There it was. "Nobody is keeping score," Armie said. "It's different since we see Jake at things we go to."

"Like the Oscars."

"Like the Oscars," Armie repeated slowly. The thought hadn't escaped him. Every time he had a question about Jake, he held his tongue. By now, he'd lost count of the times he almost slipped, but he always managed to keep it in for the entire time he and Chris had been together. In the rare instance that Chris ever spoke of Jake, it wasn't ever deep enough to garner anything. It was like they'd both started a brand-new phase of their lives together. It was good in some ways, but like Chris had said, Armie had to be around Jake once in a while.

"I know it can't be easy for you," Chris said.

"It's not awful," Armie interrupted. "He's respectful of everything."

Halfway across the last bridge on their neighborhood circuit, Chris leaned against the railing. They were almost home. Chris could actually see the house from where they'd stopped. Armie leaned into him, arms on either side of Chris'. Their chests almost touched. "I'm going to assume this conversation is leading somewhere," Armie said. "Just let me know if it's good news or not."

"It's no news," Chris said. "Things are good with you and I want you to know that I'm not thinking about where I've already been. I want to build a life with you. This HBO thing we're doing is going to have both of our names on it. It's going to be around forever."

"If it gets made," Armie said quickly. "I'm still working on it."

"It'll happen. When it does, it's not going to be like the movie that I wrote and you were in. That movie was a done deal before you got involved. But this new one might...I don't know. Working on something from start to finish is a big deal. What if we argue and fight and things blow up?"

"You encouraged me to do it," Armie said. "I'm invested now. Nothing is going to stop me from getting it done."

Chris pressed their foreheads together and kissed Armie full on. The passion was intoxicating, but there was more he needed to say. "Jake and I worked on a lot of things together," Chris said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sounds around them. "Not everything was easy and not everything was well-received. I need you to know that. Even if I try as hard as I can, it might not be good."

"Don't think about it that way," Armie said. "You're going to write an amazing script. Then, I'll make something that approaches amazing and, as long as we're both proud of it, it'll be alright."

"Don't say that just because you think it's what I want to hear."

"I'm not," Armie said. "I'm saying it because I believe it."

"You guys can't be doing this out here." Chris and Armie both turned their heads towards the voice. It was Sebastian, who was walking towards them with two bags in his hands. "I got Thai food. Is that alright?"

"Did we have plans tonight?" Chris asked.

"Nope. I just needed an excuse to come over."

"Girl problems?"

"You know it," Sebastian said, walking right past them towards the house. "Fair warning: this is going to take a while."

"It'll all work out," Armie whispered in Chris' ear. "Just give it a shot. Like you gave me."


	19. Chapter 19

Chris wove his way through the clusters of Adirondack chairs to look for Armie. It wasn't ever hard to spot him, but it was tough to actually get to him. The book party was set up on a makeshift deck on top of the sand, with string lights hanging above the crowd and the requisite taco truck on one side. It wasn't like any book party Chris had ever been to, which was the point of the whole thing. It was more an excuse to get everyone together. There wasn't a formal signing, there wasn't even a huge blow-up poster of the cover--there was a smattering of billboards in L.A. and New York, however. Instead, there was a table of books for anyone interested and the sound of the Beach Boys in the air. The books were the only indication that the party had any sort of purpose other than revelry. Chris noticed that nobody had taken one yet, even though everything was well underway.

"The photographer left," Chris said when he finally reached Armie. Penguin had insisted that there be some sort of photographic evidence, especially with a tiny sliver of Hollywood present. Chris assumed it was for social media, to give the "People" magazines of the world that he was in the orbit of famous people. It helped sell books, but it didn't do much for his reputation in literary circles.

"Did you get a chance to eat?" Armie asked, wrapping one arm around Chris' waist. Armie had a beer in the other hand. Chris leaned into his body, wanting to melt right into it if possible. He could hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Everything was buzzing around him, but the whole world seemed hazy.

"I'm okay," Chris said, surveying everything happening around them. "Maybe I should get some water, though."

"That speech really took it out of you." Armie joked. Chris had spoken for less than a minute, welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming. Armie ended up interrupting, announcing that Chris' new book had, in fact, gone to the very top of the "New York Times" bestseller list, was officially his most well-reviewed release to date, and just about everyone really was excited to read it. It was a good place to be in, Chris admitted, but it was also new. Mixed reviews were the norm for him. This time around, the consensus seemed to be clear: good job. Armie had spent most of the day reading the reviews aloud from his phone and Chris was almost being lavished with nothing but positivity.

"My nerves are shot," Chris said. "Your parents are here and just about everyone I know is here."

"Don't exaggerate," Armie said. He took a long swig of beer and a deep breath. "Okay, my parents are going to freak out. Should we get this over with?"

"That's a great attitude to have right now," Chris said. He ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best to look kempt, even though the ocean spray and gentle gusts were working against him.

"The taco truck is only here for a little longer, we have to."

Together, they walked over to where the audio setup was. There was no DJ, just a laptop that was rigged to the speakers. Armie grabbed the microphone as Chris turned the music down. 

"Hello, hello, everyone," Armie said. Chris watched as everyone turned to face where they were standing. "Thanks again for coming to celebrate Chris' new book. We're so, so happy that you could all make it," he continued as the two of them walked a little bit closer to where everyone was standing.

"Seeing everyone here, eating great food, and sharing this achievement with us is really great. This morning, Chris and I were freaking out, because this whole thing was happening and we didn't know if everything would turn out right, but we both have to say that this is pretty perfect. However, there's more to celebrate than this guy," Armie said as he pulled Chris close to him. "Before all of this, we took a little detour downtown. I'm very, very proud and excited to say that Chris and I went to City Hall and got married."

Chris scanned the guests' faces. It was a combination of shock and awe along with an almost palatable joy. He could almost feel the buzz coming off of everyone as they let the news sink in. It took a split second, but there was a wave of cheers and applause. Armie leaned over and kissed Chris, bringing his focus away from everyone's reactions to the announcement.

"There you go," Armie said softly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Thank you for celebrating with us," Chris said into the microphone. "I hope everyone has been having a great time. Armie and I are very grateful to have you all here to share this with and I don't think that we'd both be where we are right now without everyone either supporting us or telling us we're making a huge mistake."

"Last call is happening pretty soon, so I hope everyone got enough to eat and has a great night," Armie added. "Thanks again for coming, everyone."

Another round of applause swept the crowd and Chris felt himself being pulled into a hug and another kiss. The swell of cheers got even louder. Chris smiled as Armie pulled away. "I love you," Chris said, his arms tight around Armie's torso.

"We did it," Armie said. "This is real." Chris rested his cheek against Armie's chest for just a second, trying his best to commit this feeling to memory.

"You guys are serious, right?" Sebastian asked. He pulled them both into his arms. "You told me you were going to get a haircut and you end up getting married?"

"I did get a haircut. Oscars are on Sunday!" Chris said, grinning. "And this just felt right. It really did." 

"He took some convincing," Armie emphasized. One of his arms was still around Chris' waist, even as everyone was coming up to congratulate them. "I've been trying to convince him to think about getting engaged again...and we decided to go all in."

"I'm so happy for you guys. Congratulations," Sebastian said. "It's about time."

"And here come my parents," Armie said as he saw them through the crowd. "I'm going to talk to them, you guys have a drink for me."

Armie made his way to his mom and dad while Chris accepted hugs and well wishes. "You were never one to follow tradition," Dru said.

"Mom, this wasn't a last-minute decision. I've thought this through," Armie said. 

"Chris is wonderful," Dru said, her hands reaching for Armie's. "I'm not going to ruin tonight for you. There's a lot to think about. You know how hard marriage is. I've been through it. You've been through it. He has, too."

"I love you, mom," Armie said, hugging her. "But we're not talking about this right now. I'm too happy to hear anything negative. Have a beer. Have some fun."

"I didn't really think about it at all," Chris said to Sebastian. They were sitting on the edge of the party together. Chris couldn't keep from smiling as they watched everyone get back to eating and drinking. "I told him I wasn't ever going to get married again. Then, this morning, we went and did it and I am so happy I can't even explain it."

"You're crazy," Sebastian said. "Everyone knew this would happen. We were all just waiting."

"I didn't want to go through that whole circus again," Armie said to his father. He could see Chris out of the corner of his eye. "Chris already had a big to-do. This just felt like the perfect thing for us to do. Everyone is here. We're celebrating anyway. Why not?"

His dad didn't need an explanation. From the very beginning, Armie knew his dad loved Chris, too. When Armie decided to pursue acting, his mother was hesitant, insisting that there was so much out there that was more stable, more reliable. His dad was encouraging, even if he did have second thoughts. 

During Armie's divorce, his mom suggested therapy and his father actually sat down to listen. His parents had split up; they knew how tough it was. It wasn't surprising that his dad would support this decision. He couldn't see his mother being as quick to celebrate, but he hoped she'd make her way through the thinning crowd.

"You're officially married now and I'm still struggling to keep things going with my girlfriend," Sebastian said to Chris. "Who would have thought that would be where we are?"

"I don't think that much is going to change," Chris said. "We're so busy. Right now I have to finish writing an entire movie."

"No honeymoon?"

"We didn't even have an actual wedding," Chris said, motioning to the party around them. "We literally signed a paper and walked back to the car. We had to pay $20 for a witness. I don't think a honeymoon is in the books."

"Take him to the island," Armie's dad said. "Spend as much time as you want."

"We can't right away," Armie said. "But I appreciate the thought."

"This time's the one, I can see it."

"I hope so," Armie said. "Because I feel it."

"There you are," Chris said, getting back on his feet as Armie approached. He gave Armie a quick kiss. "People are freaking out."

"Figured they would."

"How are the Hammers?"

"Mom's not so good. Dad's great. Went just like I thought it would."

"Can't win at everything," Chris said.

By the time everyone had said their goodbyes, Chris and Armie had a chat with Michael and Dru, though it wasn't anything more than a second round of congratulations. Chris could feel some of the tension, although Armie seemed to be satisfied with where things were standing. Chris knew that it had taken a long time for Armie's parents to accept his acting career, so it could take just as long for them to adjust to the news. Chris and Armie gave them hugs and goodbyes and, hand in hand, they headed back to the house. By now, the night sky over the ocean was inky black, though the city lights illuminated everything in the other direction.

"This is the first time we've done this walk as husbands," Armie said. "Does it feel different?"

"Not even a little," Chris said. "Which is how it should be."

"When we wake up tomorrow, will things be different?"

"Yes," Chris said. "Because I'll get a lot of flower deliveries and phone calls and who knows what else? My book is out."

"You're being crazy," Armie said, squeezing Chris' hand tight. "We need to get wedding bands. We need to tell Deb."

"We'll do all that, too," Chris said. "But I think right now, I'm going to enjoy you being right here with me."

Chris undersold the after-book protocol. Armie watched, wide-eyed, as the house filled with bouquets of flowers, sent from editors, friends, and people Chris couldn't even place. Chris' inbox was filled with congratulations and praise. His phone buzzed almost nonstop. By the time Chris shut it off to maintain his sanity, Armie's head was spinning. It wasn't even lunchtime.

"This is slightly more than normal," Chris explained. "I'm not usually getting roses from the people at NPR."

"What are we going to do with all of these? There's no room for it all."

Chris shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea." For his part, Armie was dealing with his agent and how to let the world know about what had happened the night before. Without an official statement and no professional photos, everything on the internet was still hearsay. Deb was coordinating with Chris' publicist, but Armie was hoping that everything would be done by the end of the day. If they timed things right, the Oscars would overshadow their marriage announcement. It was better that way. Being tabloid fodder wouldn't help his chances with HBO.

"Why are we on Rodeo?" Chris asked. They'd managed to leave the house, leaving a note on the front door, telling any deliverymen to just leave the packages, no signatures necessary. Usually an oasis of calm, the house was a tempest of chaos. They needed out, just for a bit. "I thought Ilaria was sending our shoes?"

"I have to pick up a pair, she had to have them shipped in," Armie explained. "She has other clients. I'm saving her the trouble. Plus, we have to pick something up for ourselves."

"Oh, right," Chris said as they walked down the palm tree-lined street. "Did you call ahead?"

"They know we're coming," Armie said as pulled his sunglasses off. Tucking them into the collar of his T-shirt, he grabbed Chris' hand and led them towards Cartier. A few minutes later, Armie was sipping scotch and they were examining a tray of wedding bands in a private room in the back of the store. It was definitely different from the first time around. Jake had chosen everything, not that Chris had taken issue with that. Armie was making sure that everything was cooperative, that each experience was shared.

"I'd prefer white metal," Armie said. After he found Chris' old ring upstairs, he made it a point to get something different from the gold wedding band he'd seen hidden away. If Chris objected, he'd stand down, but if he could nudge him towards something, he'd do it.

"I wear mine on a necklace sometimes," Chris explained to the saleswoman. "So, something rounded. Something thin. Nothing flashy."

Chris gravitated the simplest one, though Armie suggested one with an Art Deco-inspired detail, with a raised portion that made the ring look like something more sophisticated than a band. "It's based on a design from 1938," the saleswoman added. "A classic design that the maison updated. It's called D'Amour. Love. It's very popular."

Armie slipped it on Chris' ring finger. He held it up, the clean platinum gleaming in the store's bright lights. "I like it," Chris said. "It is nicer than the plain one. Love. That's very appropriate."

"I'm going to need a new necklace if we get this," he added.

"That's fine," Armie said softly. The sight of Chris' finger and the ring hit something inside him he didn't expect. It was real now. The rings would be a testament to that. "That looks...wow." 

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, reaching to feel at Armie's cheek. "He's not usually like this. He should be goofing off."

"Time and place," Armie said. He took a slow sip of his scotch and took a deep breath. "We'll take that one, a chain, and let's get me the same one. All set."

"You should get a bigger one," Chris said. "Your hands are bigger than mine."

Chris picked up a thicker version of his band and slid it onto Armie's finger. He blinked back some tears and Chris chuckled. "You're such a softy," he said. "Armie, calm down."

"I'll get some options for the necklace," the saleswoman said before excusing herself.

"I never thought this would happen," Armie said. "You told me you wouldn't get married again. We're here, though. Tell me this is real."

"This is very real," Chris said. "We got married. I hate to break it to you."

Armie leaned in and kissed Chris softly. "I don't know what's happening in my head or my heart right now. I just know this feels really good."

"It could be that drink," Chris joked, pressing their foreheads together.

"We'll take this one," Armie said, holding up his hand as the saleswoman opened the door. "And Chris' and also whatever chain he wants."

"No, no," Chris said. "I don't need the necklace. I'm okay. I'll wear it on my finger. If I need it, we can come back."

"You'd think that size 14 would be in stock everywhere," Chris joked as they walked down the street. No shopping bags necessary--they wore the rings right out of the store. Armie let out a soft laugh. He couldn't remember ever getting shoes without having to special order them. Only a few of the big designers even made his size and it helped that his stylist had developed relationships with the brands that did. Being tall did have some disadvantages.

"This'll be quick," Armie said. "They have everyone ready for me to pick up."

Armie was true to his word. After a quick in and out, they were back in the car. Chris was about to close his eyes when he felt Armie grab a hold of his hand, his fingertips tracing at the new ring. He didn't say anything, but Chris knew it meant a lot to Armie to see it. "After Sunday, let's go away."

"I would love that," Chris said.

"I want to get away from all of this," Armie said. "I've got all I need right now."

"You need a script," Chris added. "Take me away and I'll get you one."

"It's a deal," Armie said. "But we can go even if you don't write it."

"It'll be like a retreat," Chris said. "With a very welcome distraction. I don't even care where we go."

Back in Venice Beach, Armie moved most of the flowers out onto the patio. The house was filled with the heady scent of flowers and both Chris and Armie were still grinning from ear to ear. With Armie's shoes, everything for the Oscars was set, too. Ilaria's assistant had dropped off their tuxedos. They had Sunday's schedule set. Now that Armie had thrown in the idea of getting away, Chris was even more excited for the days to fly by.

"And it's out," Armie said, eyes focused on his phone. "Exclusive to 'People,' but since we didn't have an actual photo, they used one from the first premiere we went to together."

"That's not even a good picture," Chris said, looking over at Armie's phone. "But I can't blame them for that. Bless Deb for getting this out at the end of Friday. Nobody will care."

"And you maintain your air of mystery," Armie said.

"It's tough when you're making statements to 'People,' but I manage," Chris said sarcastically.

Armie settled in on the couch, but didn't get anything more than a few seconds of quiet before Chris tossed a small box on his lap. "That's from David. Feel free to share." Armie tore open the box to find another one inside. Carefully pulling it out of its bubble-wrap cocoon, Armie opened the inner box to find a card that simply read "Congratulations." He smiled at the sight of two cigars. "I'll be on the patio," he said over his shoulder.

"I didn't prep," Chris said one more time to the producer, who was too busy screaming into his headset to pay any attention. As soon as he and Armie stepped out onto the Academy Awards' red carpet together, Chris was pulled away and ushered straight into the auditorium. Armie didn't even realize what had happened until he reached for Chris' hand and saw that he was missing. A panicked second later, a production assistant let him know exactly what was happening. One of the ceremony's presenters had dropped out and the show's producers were scrambling to get someone who was roughly his same height to take his place. Armie volunteered, but he was too tall. The camera operators weren't prepped for someone of his height standing next to the co-presenter and it was too late to get the blocking right.

"You'll just say, 'And the nominees are,'" he finally told Chris. "Elizabeth Olsen will read everything else."

"Also, this white jacket will look great on camera. Thanks again," he added. 

"Wait, what?" Chris asked. "What am I even presenting?"

"Best Supporting Actor," Armie said, scanning the script. "Jake is nominated. This is a joke, right?"

"What?" Chris asked, pulling the paper from Armie's hands. "This is unreal. I'm not here for a ratings stunt. Who dropped out?"

"James Franco," Armie said. "You know what happened there."

"And it's the second award of the night," Chris said. "That means..."

"You're on in 30 minutes," the producer interrupted.

"You look really handsome," Armie assured Chris. 

"Yeah, at least there's that," Chris said. "Because I will manage to screw this up somehow. Do I look okay?"

"I just said that you looked handsome," Armie said. "And if they wanted it to be for publicity, wouldn't they want me to do it?"

Chris took a few deep breaths. He'd done this before. He could do it again. Jake didn't win awards. Nothing weird would happen. Suddenly, the weight of his new wedding band seemed monumental.

"Do you need anything?" Armie asked, his hands on Chris' shoulders, squeezing slightly.

"I'm fine," Chris said. "I just can't believe they'd choose me over the dozens of other people here."

"Right place, wrong time," Armie said. "You'll do great."

Chris felt a hand on his elbow and he turned to see another PA, who was ready to whisk him deeper into the bowels of the theater. "Makeup," he said flatly. Armie was a few steps behind, not sure where he should be. If he went back out to the carpet, there'd be questions about why Chris wasn't with him. In the back of his mind, he knew that Deb wouldn't be happy with the fact that the two of them skipped out on the interviews out there.

"I need to call Jake," Chris said. "I'm not going to surprise him with this."

"I'll text him for you," Armie said, reaching for Chris' phone.

"Thanks."

Armie leaned against the doorframe as Chris sat in the makeup chair, the harsh lights of the mirror making them all blink a few times. "He probably won't be able to answer," Chris added. "But I can say I tried."

"I'll stay back here with you," Armie said. "There's no point in going to our seats."

"Do you think we can leave after I present?" Chris joked.

"We have a room across the street," Armie said, reaching out to hold Chris' hand.

"For a nap?"

"You know what it's for," Armie said.

"Need you at the stage," they both heard. Chris hopped out of the chair, cringing at the amount of powder they had packed on his face.

Armie pulled Chris back a few seconds later, so that they were a few paces behind the headset-wearing PA that had been wrangling them for the last 20 minutes. Chris felt himself being pushed against the wall and Armie's lips on his own. Chris melted into the embrace, the familiar warmth and feel of Armie's body against his. A buzz in Chris' jacket pocket brought them both back to reality.

"That's Jake," Chris said, pulling away. One hand lingered on Armie's chest as he checked the message. "Let's get this over with."

"Oh shit, the opening monologue is already over," Armie said, eyes focused on a tiny monitor down the hall. The two of them rushed towards the stage and Chris took his place next to Elizabeth Olsen, making sure that he didn't stomp on her long, beaded dress. 

"You two are cute together," she said.

Chris steadied himself on his feet and smoothed down his jacket. He glanced over his shoulder to see Armie grinning at him, his blue eyes sparkling. "Love you," he mouthed.

"I think I'll keep him around," Chris said, letting out a soft laugh. The PA pushed an envelope into Chris' hand gave them a three-finger countdown. One deep breath and Chris knew there was no turning back now.

"Here we go," Elizabeth said. Chris followed her out onto the stage and the next few minutes were a blur. The lights were so bright that he couldn't see anyone out in the audience. He heard applause, heard Elizabeth and delivered his singular line as best as he could, tamping down the shakiness in his voice.

"There you go," Elizabeth whispered in his ear as they turned to face the screen behind them. "Nothing to worry about."

Chris handed her the gold envelope and he could feel her pause. "The Oscar goes to Jake Gyllenhaal."

Chris froze. He didn't even remember to clap. He did, however, feel Jake pull him into a hug when he arrived onstage. "What are the chances?" Jake whispered into his ear. Chris felt a chill run down his spine at the once-familiar sound of his voice, the scent of his cologne. Jake looked devastatingly handsome all dressed up. Chris felt his breathing stop for a second.

He took a few steps backward, taking his place beside Elizabeth again. He didn't even hear Jake's speech. He stood still, rapt as he watched Jake speak. He felt Elizabeth's hand on his arm and they crossed the stage one more time, the lights and sounds blending into a hazy blur. 

"Congratulations," Chris finally said when they were backstage.

Jake smiled and gave Chris' shoulder a squeeze. "Still keep yours in the bathroom?"

"It got moved," Chris said softly. "I'm so happy for you." He felt a hand on his back and he looked over to see Armie at his side.

"Congratulations, Jake," Armie said. 

"I'm going to skip the press room," Chris said. "Go ahead, they're waiting for you." He knew better than to take any attention from Jake. If they both stopped to talk to the reporters, the questions would definitely sway towards the two of them and not Jake's movie. Chris' body relaxed slightly when he felt Armie step closer, letting more of the crew walk past them. The three of them were basically blocking the entire walkway. 

"Congratulations are in order for you, too," Jake said to both Armie and Chris. "My sister told me."

Chris' face flushed and Armie wrapped his arm around Chris' waist. He didn't know what to say. "Thank you," Armie said. "That means everything coming from you."

"Jake, they're waiting for you," came a voice from down the hall.

"We'll see you at 'Vanity Fair,'" Chris said.

"See you there," Jake said before he walked away.

"That could have been worse," Armie said, pulling Chris aside so that they weren't directly in the middle of everyone's path. Both of them stood, backs against the wall as the commotion buzzed all around them.

"We should go sit down," Armie said. "There's a lot of show left."

"Yeah," Chris muttered. He turned to Armie and wrapped his arms around his waist, wanting and needing the contact. He took a few deep breaths, inhaling the now-familiar scent of Armie's cologne and willing his heart to stop pounding so fast.

A few hours later, Armie was definitely buzzed on Champagne and Chris' shock had worn off. They'd managed to get to their hotel room in just a few minutes after the final award was handed out and Chris was already changing out of his white jacket into something less fussy for the night's after-parties as Armie sat on the edge of the bed and undid his bow tie. Chris stepped out of his tuxedo pants and straddled Armie's lap, running his hands down his chest. "This velvet feels so nice," Chris said before kissing him.

Armie groaned into the kiss, feeling up Chris' bare legs to his back. Chris' lips moved to his jaw and neck, but Armie held him still. "Let's go to Grand Cayman again," he said softly. "For a honeymoon."

"I'd like that," Chris said, his lips still on Armie's throat. "But let's figure that out later." With that, Chris climbed off the bed and got on his knees between Armie's legs. He tangled his fingers in Chris' hair when the familiar warmth surrounded his dick. Head tossed back, Armie couldn't think of a better way to start off the night's festivities.


	20. Chapter 20

Armie stepped back to admire his handiwork. Chris' office -- their office, really, though Armie did most of his work while pacing the kitchen or sitting at the dining room table -- was usually free of clutter, but there was no point in hiding the slew of awards he'd earned for "American Made." Man Booker Prize. National Book Critics Circle. Both the "Los Angeles Times" and "New York Times" Awards. It was rare for one book to sweep so many different honors, but Chris managed. Armie had put the newest trophy, the National Book Award, up on the shelf with the others. They weren't even his, but he beamed.

They'd been in the new house for a month now. Armie convinced Chris that a little more space couldn't hurt and though he was proud of the fact that he'd bought his glass house by himself, there was no shame in selling it at a profit to get something bigger. When a bigger house, something more traditional with a touch of Spanish architecture that was just down the canal came up, Nick had gotten their offer in before the house even got listed. It wasn't huge, nothing like Armie's Castle in the hills, but it had a garage, a spare bedroom, and was situated on a corner, giving them canal views on two sides of the house. He'd get Employee of the Month for sure with the price they paid, but it was something they could call theirs, not Chris' and not Armie's. 

"It's hot out there," Chris said from downstairs. Armie didn't even have to go downstairs to know that Chris would be rummaging in the kitchen after his run, but he made his way down to confirm it. Chris, glistening with sweat, had already managed to get coffee prepped and a bagel in the toaster.

"We're going to watch the final cut today," Armie said, leaning against the kitchen island. "Do you have time?"

"Yeah," Chris said, not looking up from the grinding, pouring and waiting. When he was satisfied with how things looked, he finally turned to face Armie. "That was really fast."

"We finished shooting the whole thing in three weeks," Armie said. "HBO doesn't play around."

"Guess not. I have a phone call about the movie rights to the book and then I'm free."

"Who did you end up picking?"

"Nobody," Chris said. "I don't think this one will make a good movie."

"Nobody is going to pay you to not make a movie," Armie said. "You're not making sense."

"It's just a phone call," Chris said. "Maybe someone will figure something out." He handed Armie his mug and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "David says it's about optics. I need someone to buy it so that I still look like I'm a big deal."

"I get that," Armie said. "But I don't get why you don't think it can be a movie. If you write it, it'll be what you want."

"I'm not going to write it," Chris said. "It means too much to me to even try."

Armie took a long, slow sip of his coffee. They'd talked about it time and time again, but Chris' stubborn streak was showing with this. "Did you pack?"

"I have clothes up there."

"Whatever you say," Armie said. He knew better. He'd already packed a few of Chris' most-worn things in an overnight bag.

"I'll get showered and we can go," Chris said. "I'll take the call while we drive."

"Are you sure? You want me eavesdropping?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What sort of secrets would I be keeping about work? You know everything about me."

"Just wanted to make sure," Armie said.

Chris practically inhaled his bagel and bounded upstairs, showing an uncharacteristic burst of energy for the early hour. Armie was more accustomed to him being a little more low-key, but since they'd gotten back from their month on the island, Chris seemed like a ball of energy. While Armie worked on his movie, basically spending every waking hour on set in the San Fernando Valley, Chris tried his best to let ideas marinade and form before jumping into another project. He'd hammered out a script that HBO liked enough to green light, proving to himself that he still had some mojo in the movie business.

"I'll be quick," Chris said from the shower. Armie had followed him up, making sure he'd gathered up everything they needed. "I'm excited to see it all done."

"It's good," Armie said. "Way different from watching the dailies."

"I'm sure," Chris said, his voice muffled by the shower. Armie paced the bedroom, but there was nothing else he could think of bringing. "Is my Kindle charged?" Chris asked as he dried himself off. 

"Yes," Armie said. "Everything is ready."

"You're the best," Chris said, kissing him quickly. "I mean that."

Armie grinned and ran his hand over Chris' cheek. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You did," Chris said, making his way to the closet. "I was hardly ever on set."

"You know what I mean," Armie said. "You always have to kill the sentiment."

"That's what I'm here for," Chris said. He'd gotten half-dressed, rifling through his closet looking for his favorite grey T-shirt, but coming up short. He pulled on a different one and stepped back out to the bedroom. "Okay. It's time for you to blow me away with this movie."

The ocean on their left, Chris did his best to stay awake as they made their way up the coast. Armie focused on the road, but his mind was still going over the movie again and again. What would he change, what could he change? He tried bouncing ideas off of Chris, but he had been going through the same thing. He wrote the script in record time, with an ongoing back and forth with Armie. It wasn't Chris' favorite way to work, but he managed. With both of them involved, there was no real way to get an objective opinion. What they both knew, though, was that it was good. Really good.

"I forgot how cute these little towns are," Armie said. They'd only gone up to Santa Barbara together one time before. It wasn't familiar to Armie yet, though he hoped it would be eventually.

"Yeah, it's Summerland, but not like the Michael Chabon novel. That was different."

"Those houses are right on the beach," Armie said.

"I used to ride my bike down to Summerland," Chris said. "My friends and I would go to Montecito down to Summerland and go back home. It would take most of the day."

It was rare for Chris to talk about his childhood. It usually only happened when they were traveling, Army noticed. Even when he'd bring up his own stories about growing up, Chris wouldn't really share. When he did, it always caught Armie off guard, like he was getting a glimpse into something very secret, almost sacred. Armie had always known that he'd have to give Chris time to open up. He just never knew how long it would take. They had a lifetime together, so he wasn't worried.

"We had these big, heavy beach cruisers," Chris continued. "It wasn't the best idea, but there's just something about being on a bike with the ocean air. It's so freeing."

"Did you do it a lot?"

"A few times," Chris said, his eyes still fixed on the coastline. The first time Armie went up to the house, he had a million questions. It was akin to walking into Chris' past, only without a narrator. He held back, only asking a few, choosing instead to bask in it all and try to soak up the history as best he could on his own. Now, it wasn't a stretch to consider it their house. Something they shared, even though Armie was still treading on foreign soil.

"More than a few times," Chris said. "I had a lot of free time in the summer."

When the Tesla pulled up to the cottage, Armie surveyed the neighborhood. In the golden afternoon sunlight, it looked almost unreal. Perfectly manicured lawns and old trees stood alongside the perfectly preserved houses. The trees that lined the neighborhood were so old that their branches almost touched each other over the street. Chris had said that in the spring, the jacarandas bloomed, filling their branches with tiny trumpet-shaped purple flowers. After a few weeks, the blossoms would fall to the sidewalk and offer up a satisfying crunchy squeak with every step. Seaside Santa Barbara was a far, far cry from the modern houses on the canals, where the newly built homes were made to look old stood with dilapidated beach houses, their original hippie owners fighting the establishment by letting their houses stand alongside the new arrivals.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" Armie joked as they approached the front door.

"Very funny," Chris said as he unlocked the door. The familiar creak brought a soft smile to his face and as the same furniture he grew up with greeted him -- Jake had only added a few pieces here and there -- he felt warmth spread over his body. This was home, even though he'd called so many other places by the same name. They walked past the dusty furniture and into the kitchen, where Chris opened the window and did the same to the back door, hoping to get some fresh air into the old house. Armie noticed Chris walking through the house with a quiet confidence he didn't exhibit anywhere else. He knew where everything was, from the huge pieces of furniture to the light switches. 

"Okay. You do what you need to do," Chris said when they both arrived in the kitchen. 

"I'm not ready for that just yet," Armie said. He leaned back against the countertop after plugging in the refrigerator, the gently hum the only sound in the quiet house. The kitchen was the only place that showed real signs of renovation. It was all Jake's doing, Chris had said during a rare mention of his ex. They'd needed a place to cook, after all, and appliances from the '60s weren't going to cut it. "You stay here. I'm going to get some groceries. I don't want to sit down to the final edits and have to leave again."

"Whatever you say," Chris said. They were there for Armie to make any last-minute changes to the movie without any interruptions. Chris had tossed out the idea of coming to the house and Armie immediately agreed, eager to get some of the creativity that hit Chris every time he went up. "I'll wash the sheets and clean up," he continued. "Sorry, I should get drop cloths or something for next time."

"I won't be long," Armie said, kissing Chris on the cheek. Chris turned to look out the kitchen window, with its view of the Pacific and the eucalyptus trees in the backyard. It was, Chris noticed, the same scent of the canals. He wondered if he'd been drawn to Venice Beach for that very reason. Chris made his way through the house, wiping the dust off the sofa, tossing the bed sheets into the washing machine, and making sure that everything was in working order. He had hired someone to look after the house, but the caretaker probably didn't do much cleaning. 

A simple bookshelf had all of his books on it, in both hardcover and paperback editions. He had a new copy of "American Made" in his backpack, ready to sit next to its siblings. Chris had removed all evidence of Jake after the divorce. The photos were tucked away in a box, along with knickknacks they'd picked up in town. Jake's road bike was probably still back in the detached garage, though. He told Chris that he'd come get it, but he was certain it never actually happened. There was no trace of Armie in the house at all, but there'd be time for that.

Chris made his way to the backyard, where there were two old wooden patio chairs set up around a tiny table. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and let himself take a few deep breaths. He felt so removed from reality, even though they were really just two hours from Los Angeles. It was an escape in every sense. It was almost enough to make him completely forget about all the bad things that had happened up here, too.

The buzz of the washing machine got him up out of the chair and back into the house, but not before he pulled the cover off of the barbecue and made sure everything was still in working order. He knew without asking exactly what Armie would be bringing back to eat. Without a fully stocked fridge, it would be steaks for dinner.

Just as Chris started the dryer, he heard the front door open and shut. Like it had been growing up, the front door stayed unlocked until bedtime. "The place looks great," Armie said as he unpacked everything. "I forgot how cute it is."

"We should come up more often," Chris said. "It's here for us."

"Yeah, I always forget," Armie said. "It's quicker than a flight to the Caribbean. And Texas."

"I think the movie is great," Chris said. "Really good. There's a lot to be happy about. Try not to focus on the tiny things, okay?"

"I know. I'll try," Armie said, lifting Chris' hand to his lips. He kissed the knuckles softly, barely grazing skin, his eyes, half-closed, looking into Chris'.

Chris unpacked the rest of the groceries, letting Armie settle in with his computer open on the tiny dining room table. He went out back, getting everything set with the barbecue so that Armie could cook when he was ready. By the time the fire had blazed and settled down, Chris saw Armie inside, headphones on his ears and a look of deep concentration on his face. He was scribbling in a notebook, his eyes darting around wildly as he surveyed everything that was happening on his screen.

"I need you to do me a favor," Chris said into his phone, his eyes still locked on Armie.

"Anything."

"Jake, buy my movie rights. Don't let anyone make it. It means too much to me." With his past record the way it was, everyone expected an announcement about a movie right after any news of a book. Chris didn't even have to tell David, because everyone automatically assumed that there'd be an adaptation. This time around, however, Chris wasn't as enthusiastic. With something so personal, he couldn't think of any way to translate it from the page to the screen.

"I'm not really budgeted for that right now, Chris. I wish I could help you."

Chris sighed. After a pause, he finally said what he'd practiced over and over in his mind: "A dollar. I'll give it to you for a dollar."

"You're being ridiculous. I love the book, but you're not thinking this through," Jake said. Chris had sold the rights to one of his books for seven figures. The idea that he'd do it for a dollar wasn't just absurd, if anyone read about it, they wouldn't believe it.

"I've thought about it. My agent says I need to sell it, but nobody needs to know for how much and nobody will care that it doesn't ever happen. They'll forget all about it. David just needs to put out an announcement."

"I can call my lawyer," Jake said, his voice low and quiet. "I'll get a contract written up if that's really what you want."

"I'll tell David it's happening."

"I don't really understand, but I know better than to say no to you."

"I'm making sure nobody can do it," Chris said. "Including me. I want people to experience this book, not watch it. You know exactly what I mean."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"Thank you," Chris said, leaning against the house. He didn't know what else to say. Small talk seemed ridiculous at this point and there wasn't anything else he could think to bring up. "Email me everything. I'll take care of everything on my end."

"I'll talk to you later," Jake said. "The girls miss you. Let's all get together."

"Yeah," Chris said, even though he knew it probably wouldn't happen until the holidays, if at all. "Let me know." After he hung up, he quietly slipped back into the house, hoping not to interrupt Armie. Seeing him still hard at work on his computer, Chris tended to the laundry and straitening up everything in the bedroom. Jake's help brought a wave of relief and Chris could turn his focus to helping Armie with whatever he needed. So much attention had been about his book and their quickie wedding, Chris felt that it was about time for his focus to shift to Armie and the movie's final cut. 

"I've seen it so many times, I don't know if I'm just overanalyzing it," Armie said as he watched the two steaks sear on the grill. He knew better than to touch them, but his nervous energy was begging him to flip and flop the two pieces of meat. He held back. By the time the coals had turned white and ashy, glowing with red embers, Armie had watched half the movie. He took a break to cook, but he couldn't get it off his mind.

"That's exactly what you're doing," Chris said. "Just step back for a little."

"It's got both our names on it," Armie said. "I don't want to let anyone down."

"Are you happy with it right now?" Chris asked. He let Armie's comment about both of their names slide. Armie was the one taking a bigger risk. This was his first time directing. Chris being involved in a movie wasn't anything new at this point. If anything, his track record proved that it was more of a detriment. With so few bona bide hits, Chris often wondered why anyone would want him to involved with anything at this point. The critical clout could only go so far when he couldn't back some of it up with legitimate success.

"Yes, of course," Armie said. He gave in and poked at one of the steaks. It was still too soft to be medium-rare. "It's what I wanted it to be."

"Then it's done," Chris said. "You can't keep trying to tweak it. If anyone knows about that, it's me."

"You're right." Flip. Perfect. One more minute just to get some grill marks and they'd be ready. "You're exactly right. Can you check the ravioli?"

Chris stepped back into the house, leaving Armie to man the grill solo. At the stove, Chris watched as the pockets of pasta boiled up and floated to the top of the pot. Carefully fishing out each one, he plated half for himself and the other for Armie. It was something he could handle, even with his less-than-rudimentary skills at the stove. Baby steps had lead to proficiency in warming up already-prepared foods. Their steaks were on the dining room table by the time Chris turned around to check, Armie already sitting down, eyes glued to his phone for just a second.

"Okay. I'm not going to think about it the rest of the night," Armie said, letting out a long breath and settling in his chair.

"But that's why we came up," Chris said. "So you could think about it."

"Right. But I'm letting everything marinate right now."

Chris didn't say anything to that. Instead, he focused on the lobster ravioli and practically drooled waiting for the steaks to rest before Armie sliced them up. He stepped back into the kitchen to pour out two fingers of whiskey for Armie, who took it with an appreciative smile. "How many books did you write here?"

"A few," Chris said. "Right at this table."

"I wish we spent more time here," Armie said, looking around. "Without having to rush back down, you know?"

"I'd like that," Chris said, watching intently as Armie stood up to cut up their meat. The middle was still red, a stark contrast to the brown sear. "The first time you were here, we only stopped in. We didn't even spend the night. There's no rush this time, we can stay."

"I wish I could have met your grandparents," Armie said. It was the right thing to say, though it was completely sincere. "Do you think they'd like me?"

"They liked everyone," Chris said. "So, yes."

"Would they be proud of you?"

"Yes," Chris said again. "My grandma always told me that I could tell stories better than anyone. She never discouraged me from pursuing writing, even though I was convinced I'd be a nobody. She just wanted me to do something I loved."

"And look at you now," Armie said.

"Sitting at the same table I was when she was still alive," Chris said, grinning. "But I do have a very handsome husband to go with it and I have two National Book Awards, which I'm sure she wouldn't have expected."

"Look at you, being all proud for once. I'm so used to you being humble and unassuming."

"Grandma and grandpa would be proud is all I'm saying."

"I get it," Armie said, taking a slow sip. He reached over and touched Chris' hand, Armie's fingertips tracing along Chris' wedding band. "I'm also very proud of you. And I love you very much. I just wish I could enjoy this whole thing without a huge distraction."

"We've got time," Chris said. "Trust me. There's not much to this place."

"How much of what I think I know is true?"

"Probably most of it, to be honest. And if you're with me even with all the stuff that might not be true, then you're either crazy or I've managed to convince you that I'm worth the trouble."

"And now we're back to self-deprecation."

Chris shrugged, smiling. "I noticed that you put a photo of us on the bookshelf."

"What do you think?" Armie asked, arms crossed over his chest. It was a selfie he'd taken on Grand Cayman, the two of them in a huge hammock right on the water. It was in a simple wooden frame and sad proudly beside photos of Chris and his grandparents. 

"It really ties the room together?" Chris joked. "No, it belongs. You belong. This is me, so this is us now."

The next morning, Armie woke up in the usual tangle of limbs. Chris was latched onto him, their legs entwined. Chris' arm was draped over his chest and his slow, even breathing let Armie know that he was nowhere near ready to wake up. True to his word, Armie didn't think about the movie at all. Instead, he occupied himself by asking a million questions about the things he saw around the house. Every photo had a story, every piece of furniture, too. There was a faded sticker of Wolverine from the X-Men comics on a doorframe at about knee height. Chris said he'd stuck it on there during one of his birthday parties as a kid and it had been there ever since. The huge scratch in the hardwood floor? It was there as long as Chris could remember. The creaky floorboard in the hallway? Chris stepped over it without even thinking. Armie seemed to step straight onto it every time, sending a loud boom echoing through the house. The whole thing was the perfect distraction for Armie and a chance for Chris to relive parts of his past he was sure he'd forgotten.

Armie blinked a few times, doing his best not to move at all, taking in his surroundings in the soft glow of the morning light. After his grandparents had passed, Chris never moved into the master bedroom. They were, in essence, in his childhood room, minus the fact that it had been cleared out and there was newer furniture. While grandma and grandpa's things had been stowed away, their room was basically unchanged. Armie peeked inside the night before to find things eerily orderly. Almost devoid of personality, it was sterile and cold. He didn't know what else it could be or how he'd change it, but it wasn't a place he felt comfortable entering. Armie noted that Chris never went inside, either. The door was always half-open, as if someone would return at any minute.

Slowly separating himself from Chris, Armie slipped out of bed, grabbing for Chris' underwear from the day before and slipping it on before he rubbed at his eyes. He checked his phone as he made his way to the kitchen, making sure to step over the squeaky slat. He wondered how long it would take him to feel at home in this house, in a place steeped in so many memories that didn't involve him. The glass house was only just starting to feel familiar when they packed up Chris' things. Now, they had a new place to get used to, only they'd be doing it together.

The haze of waking up made it easy for him to ignore his laptop, but he made a new promise not to think about his movie for the rest of the weekend. It was done. He'd watch it through one more time just to make sure and then give HBO the final package. After that, it would be out of his hands and all he could do is wait. He paced around the house, looking again at everything they'd talked about the night before, running his fingers over the built-in bookshelf and the curiosities within.

He felt a pair of warm arms wrap around his stomach and a lazy smile spread across his lips. Chris nuzzled at his shoulder blade, pulling their bodies together. "Good morning," Chris said into Armie's skin. He felt Chris' hands run down his chest and stomach, settling on his sides.

"Couldn't sleep?" Chris asked, his voice still gravely.

"Didn't want to wake you," Armie said, running his hand over Chris'. "Just woke up early."

"You look ridiculous in my underwear," Chris said, leaving soft kisses on Armie's spine.

Armie chuckled. "You always say that." 

"Since when do you wake up at dawn?"

"This house is really special to you. How come you don't come up more?"

"It wouldn't be special if I was here all the time," Chris said. "And this house has a lot of ghosts."

"Not actual ghosts."

"No. It's got a lot of memories. I can only take it in small doses."

Chris pulled himself away from Armie, a wave of goosebumps spilling down his arms as the cool air hit them. Armie turned around when he felt Chris shifting. He wrapped his arms around Chris' waist. "It's incredible seeing it. Actually seeing it," Armie said.

"You're so sappy," Chris said, resting his head on Armie's shoulder. "But we can stay as long as you want. Add some new memories."

Over their first pot of coffee, Chris explained how the kitchen had gone from a retro eyesore to something a professional chef would have at their own home. Stainless steel replaced an almond-colored stove and a slab of plain white granite replaced terra-cotta hued tiles on the countertop. It certainly wasn't anything amazing, but it made a staid eyesore into a functioning kitchen. He motioned out to the backyard, wondering out loud if a set of string lights wouldn't make it a little nicer. Chris loved them, even if they made everything look a little like a beer garden or country fair. 

"Maybe we can get rid of the fence outside? Does it look silly?"

"No, that white picket fence looks like it belongs," Armie said. "It adds to the suburban fairy tale."

"And what about my grandparents' room. Is it time to get to that?"

"That's up to you," Armie said. "I can't push you into that."

"But I'm sure you think it's creepy. You shouldn't feel that."

"You said it, not me."

"Okay, that's it. We'll make it our house. You and me, just like back at home. It's a new start for everything."


	21. Chapter 21

Chris raised his eyebrow, watching Armie across the dining room table. He held Armie's phone in one hand and the other was sitting on top of his laptop. There was no way Armie would be able to access the outside--online--world. "This is cruel and unusual punishment," Armie said, his bright blue eyes darkening with a combination of annoyance and anger.

"Prepare yourself," Chris said.

"I've read bad reviews before. A lot, actually," Armie said.

"This is different. I need you to understand this was your very first time directing a movie and that everyone is expecting a lot and maybe there will be an unfair lean to all of this."

"Okay," Armie said. "Got all of that. Now let me see what they wrote." Armie's movie was set to air Friday night, but the press embargo was being lifted on Thursday morning. All the critics that got a chance to pre-screen the movie would be posting reviews throughout the day. They'd just finished breakfast and Armie was set to scour the internet for any mention of "Resurrection." 

"It's too soon, anyway," Chris said. He set Armie's iPhone down on top of his laptop and slid it across the table. "It's up to you. If you want to torture yourself right now, I won't stop you."

Armie sighed. They'd both been through it before, but Chris was right. Armie had grown so accustomed to mixed and downright bad reviews that he had steeled himself for the worst-case scenario every time. He doubted that anyone would cut him any slack knowing it was his first turn behind the camera.

"In what could have easily been seen as a vanity project, actor-director Armie Hammer takes on a story that's part 'Of Mice and Men' and part 'I Am Sam,'" Chris read from his own phone screen. He didn't look up at Armie, but he could sense the tension without having to see Armie's face. "In what could have been a parody of mental illness and a sentimental slog, he succeeds in avoiding cliche as both director and supporting actor. 'Resurrection' is concise, clever, and offers a view of schizophrenia, obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression that's often overlooked: the story of the caretakers and family. And the armadillo is cute, too."

"That fucking armadillo," Armie said. "Of course you weren't on set those days. Who wrote that?"

"James Poniewozik at the 'New York Times,'" Chris said. "Happy?"

"Relieved." He sat back in his chair, "If the 'Times' liked it, it means not everyone hated it."

"Armie," Chris said, setting his phone facedown on the table. "Why are you being so hard on yourself right now? You weren't this worried about the three movies you've put out since we've been together--and one of those was my movie, you could have shown a little more concern there."

"Because people never take me seriously," Armie said. "If this bombed, I wouldn't ever be able to even try it again. I probably wouldn't get any roles, either. The scent of failure lingers."

Chris didn't want to bring up the fact that a few of Armie's movies had, in fact, bombed. He didn't really have trouble finding work after those missteps. "One in the positive column," Chris said. "Just a million more reviews to go."

"I'm sorry," Armie said. "You know this temperamental artist stuff isn't me. That's more your department. I'm just worried."

"Understandable," Chris said, getting up out of his chair. He kissed Armie's forehead on the way to the kitchen. "Let me know when you're sane again." Chris hadn't been able to sleep well the night before. The tossing and turning seemed to stem from being nervous and anxious for Armie's sake, but the vivid dreams that nearly bordered on nightmares didn't have an explanation. Chris thought about bringing them up, but the details seemed to fade as the morning progressed and he didn't want to offload any more issues to the present situation. Instead, he'd let the dreams fade and hope that they'd disappear into the ether of his mind as he read more takes on the movie.

"So, this is super awkward," Sebastian said. He'd walked over just after lunchtime, an artful arrangement of succulents in his arms. Chris had opened the door and greeted him with a hug, but aside from a few pleasantries, Armie and Chris were both glued to their phones. 

"We're deep into the reviews now," Chris said. "Sorry. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Maybe a tour? This is the first time I've been over here. These cacti are a housewarming gift."

"I'm really sorry," Armie said, mentally tracking exactly how many times he'd apologized today. "Let me show you around."

"I get it," Sebastian said as Armie got up. "If this is a bad time, I can go."

"Please don't go," Chris said. "Check out the house and I'll make coffee."

"This is the kitchen," Armie said, smoothing his shirt over his chest. "Those doors all open up and we can have this huge patio-dining room situation." He said as he motioned to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors facing towards the canal.

"Yeah, because you guys are always having people over," Sebastian said sarcastically.

"Hey," Chris said from the kitchen. "Nobody asked for snark."

"This house is huge," Sebastian said.

"Compared to the old house, yeah, but it's not that big," Armie said. "Our old place was a sliver of a house. This is a whole one."

They walked upstairs together, Sebastian keeping himself a few paces behind Armie. "Did you read any of that stuff that came up after your wedding announcement?"

"Deb told me there was some fluffy coverage, but she said it wasn't that bad," Armie said as he walked Sebastian through the guest bedroom and the office. There was a room they didn't know what to do with, too, along with the master suite. The tour was quick.

"The Oscars basically buried it," Sebastian added. "But I saw that Chris cut a deal for his book. Do you know about that?"

"He told me he didn't want to make it into a movie," Armie said. "I think he'll change his mind, but I don't know. We've been juggling a lot with the party, the Oscars, the move, Santa Barbara and the movie. Do you think he told me and I forgot? Maybe I was distracted?" Simply listing out all of the things that had just happened was enough to give him whiplash.

"I think you'd remember," Sebastian said, taking in the view from the master bedroom. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling windows, giving them a pretty spectacular panoramic vista right from bed. "This is worth it right here. You guys are lucky to have gotten this house."

"We got it before it went on the market," Armie explained. His mind was racing now. Not only did he have reviews to digest, he had to think about Chris either keeping something major from him or his own apparently lax listening skills. "Maybe it's still being worked out."

Sebastian pulled out his phone, looking up the story again. "Yeah, nothing's final yet. His agent would know. 'Variety' reported it." Armie was out on the balcony, which wrapped around two sides of the room. Sebastian noticed a pair of chairs and a telescope out there.

"I must have been really out of it," Armie said. "I'll ask him. He hasn't started working on the script, so things probably aren't even that far along."

"You guys did good with this house," Sebastian said, arms outstretched. "I have to walk further to get here, but it's worth the trip."

"Yeah, it's great," Armie said. He let out a long, slow breath. "Man, I wish I could actually enjoy it for a minute. My brain is overloaded."

"Only good things," Sebastian said. "I haven't read anything bad yet."

The two walked back downstairs, where there was coffee waiting for them and all of the back doors were open, just like Armie had described. Two of the walls had basically disappeared, leaving a huge swathe of the house open to the cool, coastal air and the faint scent of eucalyptus.

"Rotten Tomatoes aggregated it to 82%. I would say that's a success," Chris said from the patio. "Sebs, we have a fire pit. We don't have to use yours anymore."

Armie ran his hands over his face, feeling a huge wave of relief wash over him. "I have to call my parents," he said, a smile spreading across his lips. He rushed over towards Chris and kissed him full on, Armie's hands pressing at Chris' lower back to pull their bodies together. "I couldn't have done it without you. You're incredible. You told me to go for it and now it's out there."

"Go tell your parents," Chris said. "You're not a failure, after all."

"I love you, even when you're an ass," Armie said. He took a sip of his coffee and held the mug up to both of them in a mock salute. "I'll be right back."

"HBO is throwing us a party tonight at the Chateau Marmont, because what else would they do?" Chris said. "Everyone thinks it's where we started our whirlwind romance. You should come."

"Isn't it where you met?"

"Yeah, but from what happened that night, you wouldn't think we'd be married and living in this amazing house. Did you see that we have an actual dock? We could have a tiny boat."

"That's for paddle boarding and kayaks," Sebastian said.

"We could have those things," Chris said, shrugging.

Chris rubbed his nose against Armie's cheek, feeling the scratchy softness of his beard. Armie chuckled, rubbing Chris' back. "Good reviews. Good party," he said, eyes looking up at the night sky. The two of them were snuggled together on the patio, the fire pit was sending waves of warmth across their bodies and there was plenty to be happy about.

"Good food," Chris interrupted. He ran his hand over Armie's stomach, grinning as he pressed their bodies closer together. His fingers slipped between Armie's shirt buttons, feeling warm skin. "And everyone was so happy for you."

"For us."

"It was your night," Chris said. "Enjoy it."

"I did," Armie said. "Because I was with you."

"Yeah, except we were separated the entire time."

"We're together now. I'm celebrating exactly how I want to."

Chris could smell cigars and Armie's cologne, mixing with the tiniest hint of scotch and sweat. He reached over and undid a few more buttons on Armie's shirt, freely feeling at his hairy chest. "There's no place better than where I am right now."

"I'm the happiest guy on the planet," Armie said. With Chris in his arms, he couldn't think of anything that would have made that moment better. Chris kissed at his throat and chest, chuckling when he felt Armie's fingers tangling in his hair. "Nothing could make this better."

"I can make you feel a little happier," Chris assured him, pressing his body even closer. "Can I ask you something serious?"

"No. Not tonight."

"How does Christopher Hammer sound? Can I?"

"You don't have to ask me that."

"But I did."

"And now I'm even happier. Didn't think it could happen, but it did."

"I can do one more thing," Chris said, his hand moving down Armie's body.

"Not out here. As much as I like where this is going, we should head upstairs."

"Whatever you say," Chris said, pulling himself from Armie's embrace and straddling his lap. He unbuttoned his own shirt and shrugged it off, tossing it onto one of the chairs beside the two of them. Armie reached up to feel the newly exposed skin and Chris shivered at the touch, feeling warmth spread through his body from Armie's hands, joining the waves of heat coming from the fire pit. 

Armie sat up and kissed Chris' lips, pulling their bodies together and licking at Chris' tongue. "Upstairs. Now."

Chris pushed Armie's shirt off, ignoring the demand as he deepened the kiss, both of them hungrier, needier than they were just a second ago. Chris got up and pulled Armie along with him, reaching down to shut off the gas-powered fire pit before Armie led the both of them through the house. 

Feeling a yank back, Chris turned around, but couldn't react as he felt himself pushed down to the couch. Armie's mouth was on him immediately, nipping and sucking at his neck. It wasn't their bed and it wasn't upstairs, but Armie didn't care. He yanked off Chris' pants and licked at his balls, stroking his dick as he heard gasps and moans coming from Chris' mouth. Fingers tangled in Armie's hair and he could feel Chris' entire body tensing up. He groaned around Chris' dick, taking it into his mouth and bobbing slowly, feeling the length slide against his tongue and watching the rise and fall of Chris' chest. One of Armie's hand went lower, pulling and rolling Chris' balls, and the other holding him steady, pressing down on his hip to keep the bucking under control.

Armie quickened his pace, moving up and down Chris' dick, keeping his lips tight as he went. He loved watching Chris' reactions, soaking in the image of Chris with his head thrown back and noticing each hitched breath and unexpected groan. Chris bit down on his lip, trying to keep in a whimper when he felt Armie's lips on the base of his cock. Armie gulped and pulled off, his tongue paying more attention to Chri's slit and his head. Chris' toes curled and he bore down with his muscles, working to keep his orgasm at bay through Armie's enthusiasm. Pulling Armie up, he kissed him hard, their mouths crashing together as Chris' hands ran over Armie's skin, desperate for any contact, moving from his arms and shoulders to his back.

"Tell me we have lube down here somewhere," Chris said, his voice breathy. Armie didn't answer, instead latching onto Chris' collarbone, biting down before getting rewarded with a breathy gasp. Armie pulled himself away, a smirk coming to his lips as he took in Chris' kiss-swollen lips, the red marks already forming on his neck, and the faint purple on his collarbone. He reached down and stroked at Chris' leaking cock, catching his breath as he tried to get his bearings. "Armie, get inside me. Fuck me."

Armie shucked his jeans and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before he pushed his underwear off. His hard dick slapped up against his abs and Chris groaned just seeing it. Stroking himself, he took a few steps towards the built-in bookcase, Chris watching the muscles in Armie's back and shoulders as he dug around in the various boxes before finding a bottle of lube. He slicked himself and got back between Chris' legs, putting one up on his shoulder before sliding two fingers inside Chris' hole.

"God," Chris groaned, his head back again. He gritted his teeth, jaw tight as Armie worked his hole. Chris gasped when he felt Armie's mouth on his dick again, not even bothering to keep the sounds in anymore. Armie's hot, wet mouth and long fingers had reduced him to a writhing mess. His body was covered with a sheen of sweat and he didn't care if the entire South Bay, the entire city of Los Angeles could hear him. 

"Armie," Chris said, surprised at the dry, raspy sound of his own voice. He couldn't get another word out as Armie added a third finger, twisting and scissoring inside Chris' hole, Armie's fingertips tapping at Chris' prostate. He clamped down on Armie's fingers, which elicited a soft chuckle from Armie's throat. 

Armie's fingers prodded and stretched, but his lips were back on Chris' jaw, his scratchy beard bringing more pink in its wake and his teeth leaving a trail of soft bites and nips. "You're so sexy," Armie said, the sound muffled by Chris' skin. Though he barely heard the words, Chris could definitely feel them. The deep baritone sent a wave straight down his spine, right to where Armie's fingers were still working him open.

When the fingers were replaced by the blunt head of Armie's dick, which slid deep in one deft stroke, Chris swore out loud, stars dancing on the inside of his eyelids and his whole body tightening and loosening all at once. His hands dug into Armie's forearms and he almost came at the initial penetration. He caught Armie's mouth with his own and held tight as Armie rolled his hips, fucking with slow, languid motions even though Chris was a mess under him, trembling with need and whimpering every time Armie's cockhead pressed past his prostate.

Thrusting faster, Armie pulled Chris into each one, his thighs pressed to Armie's chest. Rocking in hard and pulling out, Armie's body moved both of them together, barreling them towards orgasm. Overwhelmed by everything, having his entire body under Armie's, his ears filled with the sound of heavy breathing and grunts, and his entire field of vision flooded with Armie and only Armie, Chris fell over the edge, his body stiffening as he shot across his own stomach, his cries muffled into Armie's neck. The thrusts didn't stop, didn't slow down. Armie kept up his motions, fucking Chris through his orgasm, knowing that each and every move was pushing Chris further, driving him over the edge of control. Armie felt hands on his shoulders, up his neck, felt Chris cling to him and ride out his climax.

Armie went harder, his hips drilling in fast and deep. He held Chris tight to him. By now, Chris' legs had fallen off Armie's shoulders and wrapped around his waist, every part of him wanting, needing contact, seeking as much skin-on-skin contact as possible. Armie pounded in, gasping as the edges of his vision went blurry, his own orgasm hitting him suddenly as he ground his hips into Chris' ass, getting as deep as he possibly could, shooting hard as his body was racked with the waves of his orgasm.

"Should we go upstairs?" Armie asked, kissing right below Chris' ear.

Chris rocked up, pushing Armie down onto his back and settling his ass down on Armie's lap. He shook his head, "I'm okay right here." As he rocked his hips, his hands grabbed at Armie's and held tight. Chris leaned down to kiss Armie again, making sure to quell any objection. They had reason to celebrate and Chris was going to take full advantage of it.

The new house had plenty of room, but the congratulatory flowers still filled up just about every open space. It was almost comical that they were doing it all over again, but Chris and Armie were looking at each other over bouquets of roses and hydrangeas, the air almost heavy with the scent of lilies and freesia. The sheer volume of it all showed just how over-eager everyone was to send their regards, but Armie loved each and every delivery. He kept a list of who to send cards to, wondering just how much time he'd have to get stationery that read "The Hammers." It seemed like the perfect way to let everyone in on the big news.

"Do you want to take any of these upstairs?"

"I'll put some in the bathroom and our room," Chris said, looking for something small enough. "And maybe the office. I guess we should spread it out."

Armie leaned against the counter, not even trying to wipe the smile that had been plastered on his face for the last 24 hours. In the back of his mind, he knew he should ask Chris about what Sebastian had mentioned. But for now, he could keep it tucked away. There was no reason to worry.

"Mr. Hammer," Armie said, still grinning from ear to ear, "two successes in a row. Books, movies, TV. What can't you do?"

"Act. Sing. Cook," Chris said. "There's plenty this Hammer can't do. The one I'm talking to, though, seems to be good at everything."

"We both know that's not true," Armie said. "But you can keep saying it."

Chris walked over and kissed Armie on the cheek, feeling down his arms, and holding his hands. "Okay, I have to do some actual work upstairs, because I'm starting to feel dizzy from all these flowers."

"Not everyone's as busy as you," Armie said. "So I guess I have to occupy myself somehow?"

"You'll figure it out," Chris said. A quick kiss on the lips and Armie was alone in the quiet solitude of the kitchen. Riding high on the movie, he'd decided that even the most mundane, everyday errands could use a jolt of positivity. Getting the care washed seemed like a chore any other day. Today, it was almost something to celebrate. A grocery run became a chance to wonder if there was anyone actually talking about the movie and during the drive, he saw a few billboards promoting it. 

"I won't tell him you said that," Armie said into his phone. He was at Chris' favorite coffee shop, one with an ocean view and seats outside for people-watching and optimal sun exposure alike. "But both of us wanted to keep things low-key, mom. We only announced it because there'd be too much gossip if we didn't. 

Armie idly stirred at his coffee. His mom had suggested a proper reception, something that involved a sit-down dinner and not a salsa bar. She was old Texas through and through. She wanted things done a certain way and, even though he knew better, Armie wasn't getting in step with any of it. The divorce was one thing. Then, it was Chris -- someone getting a divorce himself. Armie wasn't only defying convention. He was defying his mom's master plan. Not that there was any going back now. He wondered what his mom really wanted. Another divorce would give her a stroke. 

"I like Chris," she said. "I love him, even. But I don't love that you're happy to be with someone who can take attention from you."

"Wow, mom, way to be blunt," Armie said. For the first time in a while, he felt the smile fade from his face. "What do you want me to say to that?"

"There's nothing to say. If you're happy, I can learn to be happy, too."

"I honestly thought you'd be impressed by him. He's one of the most popular writers today. People actually read his books. He matters."

"The voice of a generation, I've heard."

"It's too late for you to be mean about this. What's going on?"

"I'm getting calls from the foundation. The museum. You may not take those things seriously, but I do. Is Chris going to be on the board or just an absentee member like you? He's not big in the charity world. He's only done some things with children's literacy. I'm worried about how people will see the future of the family name."

"I don't think he wants anything to do with all of that," Armie said. "I don't, either. I only do it because you want me to."

"You should shave, too."

"Mom, is this really why you called?"

"Your life might feel like a fairy tale right now, but when the excitement ends and you're settled down, you might look back and see it all in a different light. It was exactly what happened with Elizabeth."

Armie sighed. "I love you, but you can't say things like that, mom; especially not now. I'll see you soon." She barely got a goodbye in before he hung up. He stared out at the ocean, watching the waves roll in. It was very sudden, he thought. His mom wasn't processing it all. He had to admit that it was happening quickly, but he also knew that this is what he wanted from the very beginning. He spun his wedding band around with this thumb, a nervous tick that he'd always had, whether it was with this ring or the one he'd worn before. Once, twice, the ring went around three times before the sound of someone sitting down at his table shook him from his daze.

"Is Chris inside?" It was Sebastian. He and Chris stopped at this particular cafe after almost every one of their morning runs.

"He's at home," Armie said. "Just me this time."

"Figures. When I need to talk to him, he's not here. You know I still don't have a copy of the book?"

"You were at the party."

"The wedding announcement was distracting," Sebastian said. "So was the Corona. And the tacos. I was celebrating you two."

"Good to know," Armie said. "We have a box at the house. Just get one from Chris. Do you want a coffee? I need another one."

"If you're buying, I'll take a croissant, too," Sebastian said as they went inside. They were back outside a few minutes later, croissant flakes sprinkled in Sebastian's facial hair and the ever-present ocean air particularly salty. Sebastian could tell that Armie was distracted, but he didn't want to press. He knew how forthcoming Armie usually was. It'd come out when Armie wanted it to.

"When you're between projects, do you ever feel lost?" Armie asked.

"I feel lost all the time," Sebastian said, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair. "But you have to have a hobby. It can't always be all about work."

"I'm always dealing with this extra nervous energy, but with Chris around, I didn't really feel that anymore. It's back, though. I can't stop thinking about what you said. I read about it. He hasn't said a single thing."

"Did you ask him about it?"

"Of course not. That would be too easy. I'm waiting for him to bring it up."

"But you said he's not working on it. He won't bring it up."

Armie groaned, his head falling back. "I can talk to him about anything -- anything but this. Separate work and life. Why can't we ever keep it apart?"

"You two are definitely never separating work and life. You met because of work. You just put out a movie together. I didn't think you were actually trying."

"That's not funny," Armie said before he rubbed his eyes. "But I see your point."

"He doesn't keep anything from you. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"He told me that he's taking my name," Armie said, wanting to toss something positive into the conversation.

"That's a big deal," Sebastian said. "Congratulations. That must make you feel really good."

"It's more than I could ever imagine. My ex never did it. And Chris...his name is on everything he does. His books are going to say Christopher Hammer. It's crazy."

"The Social Security Office must really hate him," Sebastian joked. "And I'm guessing libraries and bookstores, too. I've never actually thought about it. His books are in two places. Now, it'll be three."

"I'm not worrying about that. I'm sure Amazon makes it easy." Armie sipped his coffee, watching as people milled around, tourists and locals walking right past the both of them, heads down, eyes either locked on their phones or the ocean.

"You know, when I met him, he said he was done with relationships. You did something to change his mind."

"I was stuck in a place I didn't want to be. He gave me a chance. Good things happened all around."

After a few more minutes, Armie said goodbye and drove back to the house, grateful every day that there was no longer a gravel driveway to deal with. Groceries in hand, he stepped into the quiet house, now filling with the glow of the afternoon sunlight. After everything was put away and he'd opened a few of the sliding doors, he headed upstairs, expecting to hear the tapping of Chris' keyboard or at least some signal of activity. "Are you home?" Armie said, peeking into the office. Chris had his headphones on, which explained the silence, but he slipped them off as soon as he saw Armie in the doorway.

"Quick question: how's your voice acting? Is 'Cars 3' a good example?"

"I don't follow. Did you get me an audition?"

"Audiobook just got green-lit. Can you offer your services for that? I'd appreciate it."

"Wow," Armie said. He sat down on the loveseat, grinning as he looked over at Chris. "Congratulations. I wondered why it didn't come out the same day as the book."

"I was figuring out how to explain to David and Penguin that I wanted you to do it. I don't ever want to come off as too demanding."

"Of course I'll do it," Armie said. "I'll clear my completely open schedule."

Chris got up from behind the desk and sat down with Armie, leaning his head on his shoulder. "Thank you for thinking of me," Armie said. He reached for Chris' hand. "I heard you figured out what to do about the book and your movie rights. I read it, actually."

"I just finalized that today," Chris said. "I don't think anyone's going to write about it."

"There was speculation. They write about everything you do."

"It's not a story. Nothing's going to happen. It's too personal. I sold it. The company promised not to make it."

"Okay. Either you are a master negotiator or David is. I won't ask what this miraculous deal is about, but I'm glad you got what you wanted. I think you're looking at it the wrong way, but I know you've got it figured out."

"Maybe it is a mistake, but it feels like the right thing to do right now. But you need to know that I sold it to Jake for safekeeping. His production company won't make it unless I approve it."

"That's...something," Armie said, his body tensing. "But you know what you're doing."

"I don't, actually. I just know that Jake won't go against his word. We can't let everyone know. His company will keep it under wraps and the whole story can just disappear."

"Are you sure you want to bury this book? If you write it, the script will be exactly the way you want it."

"Some things are too special, even for that. This book means too much to me," Chris said as he leaned in closer. He pressed his forehead to Armie's temple and closed his eyes, "You showed me that I could get through anything. I honestly thought I was broken in every way, but this proves that I wasn't. It's perfect to me and that can't happen twice. Can't risk it."

Armie pulled Chris tighter against him and let out a contented sigh. He'd have a long time to figure out exactly how Chris' brain worked, but for now, he'd let this go.


	22. Chapter 22

"I've read all your books. Seen all the movies. I think it's required at this point."

"I don't think so," Chris said. "I'm not there yet, but I appreciate it."

"I drove through Carmel after reading one of your books."

"Did you also go to Japan? I don't think most people got through that book," Chris said. 

"Can't say that your book compelled me to go there, but I have been. For work."

"There you are," Armie said, his arm coming around Chris' waist.

"This is my husband, Armie," Chris said. "Armie, this is Oscar."

"Oscar Isaac. Nice to finally meet you," Oscar said as he extended his hand. "I've heard so much about you. About the both of you."

"Likewise," Armie said, offering a firm handshake. He pulled Chris closer to him, kissing him on the temple. "Dessert's coming."

Chris reached up and felt Armie's stubbly cheek, "I'll be right there. Oscar was saying that he actually read all of my second book, which deserves some sort of commendation."

"Yeah, it's weird that nobody really got into short stories of modernized Japanese mythology," Armie said. 

"You get cocky and you try to experiment," Chris explained, reaching out to grab at Oscar's forearm. "But honestly, I really appreciate it. You really made my night."

"No, no. You deserve it," Oscar said, smiling. "You've written so many good, amazing books."

"Stop, stop. We should be getting back to our table. It was nice meeting you, I hope that whole 'Star Wars' thing works out for you," Chris said, chucking softly.

"Were you flirting with him just to make me mad?" Armie asked, his lips grazing Chris' ear as they walked away from the bar, forgetting to grab their drinks.

"Did it work?"

"Maybe if you learned to flirt, it'd work a little better," Armie said, kissing Chris' cheek. He got an elbow in the side, but managed to get Chris into a proper hug, kissing him just a few feet from their chairs. Armie pulled them in a different direction. "He was really laying it on."

"Some people like my books! Imagine that," Chris said. "He's cute. Very debonair."

"I can do debonair," Armie said, squeezing Chris' ass.

"Is someone jealous? Looks like I can be flirty after all."

"Who's cum is inside you right now? His or mine?" Armie said, his hand creeping around to Chris' groin, his breath hot against Chris' neck. They were inappropriately close to one another for a formal dinner, especially one celebrating the museum that bore both of their names, but Armie didn't seem concerned. He pushed Chris against the wall, having managed to find a dim area away from the crowd.

"You're going to kill me," Chris said. He gripped at Armie's shoulders, gasping when he felt lips at his jaw.

"You're mine," Armie said, his voice bordering on a growl. "All mine."

"We have to stop," Chris said, his hands sliding down Armie's chest.

"Fine," Armie said, taking a deep breath. He willed his erection to go down, even though Chris' kisses at his jaw weren't helping the cause. "Let's get through this. Thank god this only happens once a year."

Chris pressed his forehead against Armie's chest. "It's an honor," Chris said. "and the fact that your mom raised $3 million is insane."

"She's good at things like that," Armie said. He reached down to hold Chris' hand. "Did the menu say chocolate cake?"

"Does it matter? I'm going to eat it no matter what it is." Chris reached out to straighten Armie's tie and smooth his suit jacket down. Armie brought Chris' hands to his lips, kissing his knuckles before leading him back to their table. Just as Armie had recalled, there were two perfect pieces of chocolate cake waiting for them.

"Mom," Armie said, noticing his mother approaching them. He could almost see Chris bristle.

"I noticed you two were late," Dru said as they both stood up. Neither even had the chance to start on their dessert.

"We were on time," Armie said, his arm wrapping around Chris' shoulders. "We just skipped the step and repeat."

"If you're on time, you're late," Dru said automatically. "If you're early, you're on time."

"This is a beautiful fundraiser," Chris said. "Did Armie tell you that are working with the Hammer Foundation to put on a performance at the historic theater inside the Ace Hotel downtown?"

"He did not," she said, looking up at her own son. "That's very good to hear."

"We're still working things out," Armie said. "Chris is writing a play."

"That is wonderful to hear," Dru said, smiling.

"It's still just starting," Chris added. "Honestly, we're just thinking about it, working some things out. I don't have anything actually written."

"You could adapt your latest book," Dru suggested. "It's wonderful."

"That's an idea," Chris said.

"We'll figure something out," Armie interrupted. "We always manage."

"Let me know when you've managed. I'll be there," Dru said. She leaned in to give Armie and Chris a kiss on the cheek before finally walking away. And just like she'd showed up in their orbit, she disappeared, leaving them in a cloud of expensive perfume.

Armie could taste chocolate as his tongue ran over Chris'. Most of the party had moved outside to the courtyard, which made sense for an annual event called "Gala in the Garden," though Chris noticed that it wasn't actually a garden, since he only counted four trees in the open space. Chris felt the cool concrete of the building against his back and the heat of Armie's body pressed to his front. They'd escaped, finding themselves just around the corner from everyone else, behind the darkened gift shop. Chris felt his heartbeat pick up when Armie's mouth moved to his ear. "I hate when you wear turtlenecks," he said, running his hand over Chris' chest, feeling soft cashmere and firm muscles under his fingertips. "I'm telling Ilaria. No more."

"Then stop biting so hard," Chris said. He was up on his tiptoes by now, Armie's body still pressed against him.

Armie only let out a soft laugh, "Sorry. I know I get carried away. Like we are right now. I just can't keep my hands off you sometimes."

"I wasn't complaining about what's going on right now," Chris said, lowering himself back down to his heels. "But we probably should get going if you want to keep going." He had to admit that it was exciting, even if the prospect of getting caught by his in-laws or the event photographers was definitely not exciting.

"I want to get out of here and I want you to out of that turtleneck."

Jake slid his phone back into his pocket and took another sip from of his latte. Ramona would be bounding down the steps any minute. He needed to turn off the alerts for Chris for his own sanity, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. Seeing photos of Chris and Armie together at the museum, however, had brought up enough emotion to remind him that knowing every detail of Chris' social life wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"Can we stop by the bookstore on the way home?" Ramona asked as she hugged her uncle. "Uncle Chris told me that I should read a book called 'James and the Giant Peach.'"

"Yeah," Jake said, somewhat surprised that she'd bring up Chris right as Jake was thinking about him. "Did he call you?"

"We FaceTime," Ramona explained.

The two of them walked a few blocks towards Maggie and Peter's brownstone and Ramona explained that she and her uncle, her ex-uncle, though nobody would ever call him that, spoke pretty often. He always asked her what she was reading, recommended a few books, and told her that she was definitely too young to read any of the books he wrote.

"He also said that I should start the 'Harry Potter' books now, so mom and dad are going to get me the whole set."

"Those are good," Jake said as they walked hand-in-hand. "So is 'James and the Giant Peach.'"

"Armie says that I should read them before I watch the movies, but Uncle Chris said it didn't matter."

Jake almost stumbled at the mention of Armie, but kept walking. He'd been seeing Dan, the architect that Maggie introduced him to, for a while now, and Ramona hadn't ever mentioned him, even though they'd met more than a few times. Dan Barasch was behind a revolutionary idea for an underground park in Manhattan, hoping to transform the unused trolley station under Delancey Street into a public space and not just an abandoned memory. It seemed silly, but he'd gotten a lot of funding from private investors and the city, which was how Maggie met him. Jake thought he was kind and genuine. Plus, he was out of the public eye, even in New York City. That was something Jake could definitely get used to. Chris would like him, Jake thought. 

"The library never has 'Harry Potter' or 'James and the Giant Peach,'" Ramona continued. "And Uncle Chris said that he'd send them to me but I want them now so I can talk to him about how giant the peach is."

"It's pretty big," Jake said. "There's a big spider in it, too. I know you're not into that."

"Armie said that spiders are important because they eat other bugs," Ramona said gleefully.

"He's right," Jake said. They arrived at Word, an independent bookstore that Jake had been frequenting since he moved out to Brooklyn. Right on the front display, there was a stack of Chris' new book, its simple, bold cover standing out from more stylized releases. Jake had one in his apartment, but he hadn't gotten around to reading it yet. He'd read it through when Chris had sent him the first draft, but he didn't know exactly what, if anything, had gotten cut and what had gotten changed. It brought a smile to his face, even though he'd gone back to his birth name this time around and Jake was still taken aback every time he saw it. Chris' magazine work bore his old name, too, but a byline wasn't as bold as seeing it on the cover of a book.

"Mom and dad have that," Ramona said. "Mom cried when she read it. Does Uncle Chris only write sad books?"

"They're not all sad," Jake said. "But a lot of them are. He's writing about very grown-up things."

"Is it true that he writes about you?"

"Not exactly," Jake said. "But let's find those books for you." He followed Ramona to the back of the store, where the kids' and young adult books were in a separate alcove.

"Do you miss him? I do."

"All the time," Jake said. "Sometimes, I wonder if we should have stayed together and it makes me sad, but your uncle is very happy right now."

"Because he gets to go to Disneyland and the beach. He's always at the beach."

"Yes, that's part of it," Jake said, smiling at the simplicity of it all. If only happiness relied on Disneyland and the beach. He scanned the shelves, finding "James and the Giant Peach" in paperback, the same edition he remembered reading himself when he was younger. He handed it to his niece, who clutched it to her chest. "Do you want all the 'Harry Potter' books right now or just the first one?"

"All of them," she said confidently.

"You know, when I was reading these, I had to wait for them one by one. It was a big deal when a new one came out. They're probably in my house back in L.A."

He could see the excitement in her eyes, so he looked around for a box set of the entire series. He was glad that Chris was maintaining his relationship with Ramona, but part of him wanted to be in on the conversations, too. 

"I found them," Ramona said, showing off a boxed set.

"Perfect," Jake said. "Let's pay and get you home."

"I like when you walk me home," Ramona said. It was something Jake enjoyed, too. A few times a week, he made the trek from his Williamsburg apartment to Ramona's school, accompanying her on her walk back home and giving Maggie and Peter a chance to run errands or have some time to themselves. Sometimes they'd stop into a cafe and get a snack, sometimes Ramona would talk about her day at school. Other times, she'd listen as Jake talked about what was going on in the news or in his own life. If Chris ever came up, it was because Ramona mentioned him, not Jake.

A few minutes later, they were at the house, sitting at the dining room table as Maggie was tapping at her phone, sending her little brother money via Venmo. Ramona was already engrossed in her book, oblivious to the world around her. "There's a reason you can't commit to Dan," Maggie said. "Don't lead him on. He's a good guy."

"It's been long enough, I should be ready to date again."

"We can talk about it. I know you want to."

Jake looked over at Ramona, blissfully skimming her paperback. "Not now."

"Ramona, can you read in your bedroom or the living room, please?" She smiled and nodded, hopping off of the chair and leaving the room without ever taking her eyes off of the pages. "There. Innocent ears are gone."

"He got married," Jake said, slumping forward, elbows on the table. "I didn't think I would care, but it hurts."

Maggie sighed. "He's in a very good place. You need to see that he's found someone else. He wouldn't have stayed with him this long if he didn't really love him."

"He loved me. I love him. I thought things were okay and then when I read that he got married, I felt angry and then I felt like a goddamn failure."

"I get that, but you need to understand that you're not a failure. You've got a guy who's crazy for you right now. Dan can't stop gushing about your dates."

"And you let the girls get close to Armie, too? That's rough."

"He's a part of Chris' life, so he's going to be a part of their lives, too -- just like anyone in your life will be."

"I hate when you're so rational. Let me freak out."

"There's nothing to freak out about. It's been long enough for both of you to move on. That's what you said you wanted."

"I was wrong. I didn't want him to move on. I thought I could and I'm trying, but I think about him and compare Dan to everything that we went through."

"I'm sure he did that, too," Maggie said. "He probably still does. You're not doing yourself any favors if you keep dwelling on it. Look at me. You've got to stop chasing something that you can't have anymore."

"We've been through this."

"And we're right back here. You're so damn stubborn."

Armie stepped into the office to find Chris at the desk, the California sunshine beaming in through the windows as he typed away. Much to his relief, married life didn't involve that much change for either of them. Now, Armie was deciding between acting gigs and working on getting some more experience directing. Chris' support had paid off. Armie's confidence was at an all-time high and he credited everything to Chris' urging him to branch out into more than just acting. As cliche as it might have seemed at first, the directing bug had bitten Armie hard and he was thinking more about telling stories than starring in them. Then, a package arrived and Armie felt his heart sink. "My mom sent us brand-new dishes. She's trying to make us into what she thinks a traditional family should be."

"That'll be tough. I'm past my childbearing years," Chris said, not looking up from his computer. He tapped a few more keys and finally met Armie's eyes. "Your dad is amazing. Why can't she be more like him?"

"Nobody knows. It's a mystery to everyone," Armie said as he made his way to the loveseat across from the desk.

"We still have to send her a thank-you card."

"I love her, but she's delusional. Give her time. Please. I promise she'll come around."

"Not worried about her," Chris said.

"She imagined babies and baking and I couldn't give that to her. I tried."

Chris shut his laptop and looked over at Armie. "Don't look at it like that. You just said she'd come around. What's going on?"

"Moms just have a way of hurting you more than anyone else. I was feeling great and then the dishes got here and it felt like a backhanded compliment."

"Forget it."

Armie only grunted. His relationship with his mom had been strained at best since the divorce, but he'd forged ahead, hoping that she'd catch up. It was taking longer than he'd anticipated. "Forget it," Chris said again. "It's up to her, not you and not me."

"What are you working on? The play?"

"How did you convince me to write a play?"

"You're adapting it," Armie clarified. "Don't get too worked up."

"It's still something. Good thing the source material is so good."

"I'm packing a bag. Let's get out of here," Armie said as he got back up. The emotions were getting to him. "I don't care where. Just book something."

"I'm working."

"You can work from anywhere. I don't know why you even try that."

"You can't run away from this."

"I'm not. We're driving and you'll be a captive audience for all of my issues."

True to form, Armie had packed two bags in no time at all. It was so fast, in fact, that Chris wondered if Armie had them at the ready, just in case. Before he could even think of a sarcastic remark, they were zooming up the 5. Armie's held Chris' hand over the center console and just like he promised, he let everything come out. He'd never fallen for anyone so fast, he explained. He threw common sense aside and actually followed his heart for once and this is where he ended up. He thought his friends and family would support him, and most did, but now he was coming to the realization that not everyone -- his mother included -- was genuine about it.

"We're not going to Santa Barbara," Chris said as Armie took their usual route. "But get on the 101. Can't miss the beach views."

Armie gripped Chris' hand tighter, grateful that Chris was a good at listening. Was he filing it away to use for a story? Armie didn't care. He needed to talk and his husband was cheaper than a therapist. Maybe Dru felt left out, Chris suggested. Maybe their unconventional courtship and nontraditional wedding rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn't something that "Vogue" or "Town & Country" would have featured, though Chris pointed out that they had gotten plenty of attention afterwards. It was the wrong kind of attention, maybe, for a Dallas doyenne. 

"Take this exit," Chris said, sitting up straight in his seat. He ran his fingertips over the back of Armie's hand and tapped on his phone. "We're not there yet, but we can stop in a few miles."

"Where are you taking me?" Armie asked.

"You said you didn't care."

"I know you're not going to throw me off a cliff," Armie joked. "But we've been driving for four hours. We're not going to San Francisco."

"We're in Big Sur. The Steinbeck Museum is a few miles away."

Armie raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I always imagined this place was for hippies."

"You've never been?"

"No," Armie said, his eyes focused on the winding highway. "Never got around to it."

"It's Kerouac country. Steinbeck. There's lots of history here. Big trees, big ideas, lots of stuff."

"So, you've been before"

"Lots of times," Chris said. "I finished a few books up here. It's all very inspiring. Plus, there's barely any reception. No interruptions."

An hour later, the two of them were in the shadows of the redwoods, Armie's eyes fixed up towards the canopy, taking in the trees, which all looked like they touched the sky, almost blocking out all the light. The sunshine that did make it through seemed shot with gold and green, making everything look even more vibrant, exaggerating everything with an almost unreal vibrancy.

"I would rent a cabin out here and just lock myself away to polish up a novel," Chris said as they walked hand in hand down a sun-dappled path. He held his free hand out, trying to catch a sunbeam, watching the beams of brighter light play on his skin.

"It's beautiful," Armie said. "I've seen pictures, but this is real."

Chris got up on his tiptoes and gave Armie a kiss. "All real. It just looks like a Disney movie."

He couldn't help but smile. Away from home, from their responsibilities and the stresses of everyday life, Chris seemed lighter and happier, filled with an infectious effervescence that Armie couldn't help but share. "It's all very green," he said, genuinely fascinated with the combination of surf spray and old growth forest. It was so different from Texas and the Cayman Islands. It was vastly different from L.A., even though they were just a few hours away.

"It's just a stop, though, so take it all in. We've still got more highway to take on."

"Are you going to fall asleep?" Armie asked as his arm wrapped around Chris' waist.

"I'll stay up," Chris said, chuckling. "I'll do my best, I mean. It's only an hour."

"It's harder than I thought it would be," Armie said, pressing his forehead to Chris'. "I thought she'd love you like I love you. I honestly thought it'd be easier. We were going through everything by ourselves, I sort of forgot about it."

"What if she never accepts it?" Chris asked, running his hand over Armie's cheek, smoothing down the scratchy hair of his beard.

"Then I'll be grateful that she lives in Texas. Can't do anything about it if she's not open to change."

"See? The fresh air and open space really makes you see things clearly."

Another kiss from Armie and they headed back to the car. Just like he promised, Chris stayed awake the entire drive to Monterey. Chris pulled on a hoodie as soon as he stepped out of the car. The cold, damp, briny ocean air blew in as Armie grabbed their bags from the trunk. "I guess we're not going to check out the views tonight," he said, motioning to the dark gray clouds coming in.

"Yeah, the weather isn't cooperating, is it?"

Inside their suite, Chris held the door open as the bellhop pushed a cart in, a full coffee service atop the white tablecloth. "Thanks," Armie said, handing him a $20 bill and pouring out two coffees as Chris opened all the drapes, letting the hazy, early evening light in.

"Satisfied?" Chris asked before taking a mug and settling down on the couch. 

"Definitely," Armie said, sitting close beside him. "We should get away more."

"There's usually not a lot to get away from," Chris said, letting his head fall to Armie's shoulder. He cupped his coffee in his hand, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers. 

"Mom's one thing. The whole foundation fundraiser is another thing. And I know that you sold your book to Jake. You could have told me about that right away. I don't want to get my news from 'Variety.'"

"The contract wasn't done yet," Chris said.

"C'mon. Give me more credit than that. You should have told me from the beginning."

"I didn't know how you'd react."

"Chris, I don't know exactly how you're running your career, but you have to know that I'll support it."

"Even if it involves my ex?"

"If there is something rational behind all of the madness, then I still don't see it. But I'm not threatened, if that's what you're getting at."

Chris ran his hand over Armie's stomach, cuddling and getting as much contact as possible. Armie let out a sigh, running his hand over Chris' back. By the time they got back to Southern California, the air would be clear in more ways than one. Contracts would be signed and, hopefully, the play would be closer to being finished. It wasn't going to be a movie, but a play wasn't out of the question. Armie rubbed his eyes, letting out a yawn, even though he'd just downed his coffee in record time.

"There's a really good sushi place I know that's really close," Chris said. 

"Would it be in poor taste for us to have sushi and then go to the aquarium?"

"I won't tell if you don't."

A quick shower gave Armie life again. He'd sat still for too long and the too-quick stop in Big Sur, while nice, didn't help much. Having such a long frame meant that even the biggest cars seemed cramped. His Telsa may have been well appointed, but it wasn't much different in terms of legroom. Armie's hamstrings felt tight, even after the steamy 20 minutes in the bathroom. They decided to skip out on the sushi, opting for ramen instead, the warm broth warming their bodies from the inside out, steeling them both against the damp Monterey air. It was always like this, Chris explained. Even during the summer, nights were cool and the air was always wet. They were, quite literally, just steps from the ocean, only there were cliffs here, not the sandy beaches they were used to back at home. The water was way too cold to swim in, anyway, so it was more for looks than anything else. 

"This might be the best perk I didn't know about," Armie said, resting his chin on Chris' shoulder. His arms were wrapped around his waist as they both watched the fish swim around behind thick glass. All it took was a phone call, but Chris got the aquarium to let them in after hours. They had the whole place to themselves, save a few maintenance workers and the one administrator that stayed behind to let them in. The tanks teemed with fish and glowed with their soft, slightly eerie blue light.

"Maybe your mom can donate a ton of money to the aquarium and we can do this all the time," Chris said, his eyes following the various fish swim around the rocks and coral. Armie smiled, soaking in the quiet. His life had never been like this before. Everything was so planned out, even his time off. The impromptu trip felt like a new experience and it was great to see Chris enjoying himself, too. 

"When I was younger, my grandparents would take me here and I'd make stories up about the fish. Like, the clownfish would be a family and the surgeonfish would be their long-lost relatives or something," Chris explained. "I guess that hasn't changed much. I'm still making up stories. They said I talked nonstop. I was weird like that."

"So, what's going on with that octopus?"

"Villain. Definitely. But in a way that he's still likable, because they're really smart."

"And that turtle?"

"Doles out sage advice, like an older sister. This is all very unoriginal, sorry."

Armie chuckled softly, his thumb running over Chris' fingers, grazing his wedding band before their hands tangled together. "See how you went right to family issues? It's the people closest to us that really know how to stir things up."

"You married someone with very established family issues. Of course that's what I'd go to first," Chris said.

"It's not easy, is it?"

"I wouldn't know. But I do know that it's easier with someone. And I'm someone."


	23. Chapter 23

"We're going to be late," Chris said from the bathroom. He was doing his best to make his hair behave, but wound up running his fingers through it and letting it do its own thing. 

"I don't care," Armie said, not bothering to even look up from the task at hand. He was cutting the end off of a cigar out on the balcony and set about lighting it, the heady scent of tobacco and resin wafting out into the open air. "I just told them we were on our way."

"Very funny," Chris said as he walked from the bathroom to the closet. He was still only half-dressed and though Armie could say he was further along, the cigar break may not have been the best idea. It would be at least half an hour now. Chris slipped his black dress shoes on and pulled a white button-up shirt off its hanger. This wasn't the time for creativity. "It started half an hour ago."

"It'll take longer than that just to get there," Armie said. "So there's no point in rushing."

"By the time we get there, everyone will be drunk."

"Unlikely," Armie said before taking a few slow puffs. "Don't exaggerate."

Chris went out to the balcony to join his husband, rolling his eyes at the sight of Armie leaning back in a chair, his feet up as he smoked. "Don't get a big head or anything, but people are expecting us."

Armie grinned and tapped at his phone, filling the bedroom with The Psychedelic Furs' "Love My Way."

"C'mon," Chris said, offering an outstretched hand. Armie tapped off his cigar before setting it down in its ashtray. He grabbed Chris' hand and pulled, bringing Chris down to his lap. Their lips met and Chris worked to button up Armie's shirt, doing the exact opposite of what he'd normally do in this situation. Armie tasted like smoke, smelled amazing, and looked as good as Chris had ever seen him.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Armie asked.

"It's a party for us, it would be really rude of us not to show up."

"Who sets up a party the day after opening night?"

"That would be your mom," Chris said, reminding Armie that his mom was in charge of everything having to do with the charity. "And that would by why we're not there yet, right?"

"Are you wearing a tie tonight?" Armie said, changing the subject immediately.

"Nope," Chris said, buttoning the top buttons of Armie's shirt. "But according to your stylist, you are."

"Okay," Armie sighed. "I guess we should get going. But when we get there, let's just say hi to everyone and head out. Just get in and out." 

"We'll have to get In-N-Out if we miss dinner."

Armie stubbed out the cigar, hoping that it would be fine left out in the open. He'd get back to it later. "Alright, alright," he said as Chris got off of him. "Let's do this."

It took 45 minutes, even though both of their phones said it would only take half an hour. And while not everyone was drunk, Chris and Armie could tell that a few people did have too much to drink and that a few may have already left. As soon as they entered the party, held on the rooftop of the Ace Hotel in Downtown L.A., Chris could feel a sense of relief sweep over the entire crowd. Now that the guests of honor had arrived, they could celebrate without guilt.

Together, they made a beeline to Dru, giving her a hug as she congratulated the both of them. The play, which Chris had based on "American Made," had already sold out every one of its dozen scheduled showings, raising plenty of money for the Hammer Foundation. Armie had directed the production, happy to have one more joint project to their shared name.

"It was wonderful," Dru said. "I may not agree with your politics, but I can't deny how beautiful that story is."

Armie's arm went to its usual place around Chris' waist. "Thanks, mom. That means a lot coming from you."

"I have to say hi to my editor," Chris said. "Excuse me. It was great to see you, Dru."

"Chris," she said. "Keep up the good work. It's wonderful."

Chris slipped away, grabbed a bottle of tonic water from a passing waiter, and gave his regards to David before setting himself up at the edge of the party with the L.A. skyline surrounding him. The sense of accomplishment felt great and he let himself enjoy it instead of going with his usual M.O. and wondering what to do next.

"I think they were about to put the chairs up on the tables," Sebastian said, joining his friend.

"We weren't that late," Chris said. "Putting everything together has been really stressful."

"I'm glad you don't let work get in the way of Taco Tuesday."

"You cancel way more Taco Tuesdays than I do."

Armie wasn't surprised that Chris ducked out of the conversation with his mother, but he was surprised at just how many people wanted to talk to him. He always saw this as more of a passion project for Chris, but as per usual, Armie's involvement took more than its fair share of the spotlight. His strategy of spending as little time as possible at the party wasn't fleshing out like he wanted, but the passed hors d'oeuvres were better than he expected, too. He shoved a few in his mouth between conversations, inching closer and closer to Chris after every compliment and ultra-short conversation. 

"Did you read any of the reviews?" Sebastian asked.

"David told me that everyone was very positive," Chris said. "But I felt good about it, which is what matters. I'm not really a playwright. I needed a lot of help. It's not my thing."

"I thought you'd written them before."

"I needed a lot of help then, too. There's a whole team of people helping me with so much. They deserve a lot more credit than they get. Jake's mom basically taught me how to write a screenplay. David helped me find a guy to help with this play. All I have is big ideas."

Sebastian squeezed Chris' shoulder, "Big ideas seem to be all you need. You're doing just fine."

"Someone's going to figure out I'm a hack pretty soon," Chris joked.

"Friends!" Armie said, wrapping his arms around both Sebastian and Chris. "Did you see that they're passing around tiny fish tacos?"

"Did you see that there's no actual sit-down dinner?" Chris said. "We're going to have to get burgers after all." He reached up and straightened Armie's tie, rubbing his chest after everything looked tidy.

"Is there a big cartoon check or something involved tonight?" Armie asked. "What are we waiting for?"

"You just got here," Sebastian reiterated. "At least take me with you."

"No, no. Not yet," Chris said. "We were joking about pulling an Irish goodbye earlier but I don't think we need to."

Armie scanned the crowd. It was thinning and he could see a few people waving goodbye and offering up hugs. The party was winding down, no doubt about it. Maybe everyone was sick of celebrating them. They'd been busy, after all. It wouldn't be surprising if everyone were growing tired of it all.

"Are things better with your mom?" Chris asked, reaching down to hold Armie's hand.

"Getting there," Armie said before taking a sip of water. "It's going to be a process."

"It's easy to forget how cool it is downtown," Chris said. "The last time I was here was when you were showing me your family's building. It's different at night."

Sebastian and Armie looked around, soaking in the lights shining against the night sky, the instantly recognizable silhouettes of the buildings, and the quiet hum of the city around them. "I've never written anything about L.A.," Chris said. "Isn't that weird? I've lived here long enough, you'd think it would creep in somewhere."

"You have a thing for rural America and Route 66," Armie said. "And Japan. And San Francisco."

"I never felt like L.A. was very welcoming," Chris said. "But now, after everything, it does feel like home."

"Make sure to glorify the unbearable traffic, the income gap, and the fact that just about everyone who comes here gets their dreams shattered," Sebastian added, tossing his arm over Chris' shoulders. "Now, let's get some burgers."

"Veni, Vidi, Venezia," Chris read aloud. "That's a ridiculous headline. I don't think that even makes sense if you translate it."

"Pictures look good though," Armie said, grabbing the copy of "Architectural Digest" from Chris' hand and scanning the spread. They were out on the patio, soaking in the early morning sunlight as Chris looked over the magazine feature, which had been the very first time they'd ever been officially photographed together. The magazine wanted to feature the house, but they were a package deal. Armie flipped through the story, looking over each photo. "Yeah, you look great."

"The house looks great," Chris said, correcting him. It had been a huge production and while they were instructed to "look natural," Chris could see just how posed and forced they were in every snapshot. How often did Chris sit on the kitchen island, barefoot with his chinos rolled up just so as Armie poured him coffee from a French press? Never. They both drank pour-over. And Armie never leaned against the stairs, but there he was, looking handsome in a button-up that showed the perfect amount of chest hair. For anyone that wasn't present for the photo shoot, it looked like the perfect California fantasy. Views of the canal, fuchsia bougainvillea blooming along the walkway wrapped around the house, an overflowing dish of oranges and lemons sitting on the coffee table -- it was all too good to be real.

"Did Nick tell us this was the first two-story Spanish-style home built on the canals?" Chris asked.

"Maybe we forgot. We might have fallen in love with the views and not heard anything that he said," Armie explained.

"Are we a 'Hollywood power couple'?" Chris asked. By now, he'd moved so that they could look at the magazine together and ended up practically sitting in Armie's lap.

"Yes. That I can confirm," Armie said, letting out a soft laugh. "Look how amazing all your awards look, even out of focus." He hated to think about it, but he knew that his mom would be reading the article, looking at these same photos. He hoped it would do something to impress her, especially since she hadn't made any effort to see the house or spend time with him outside of the social events that he always felt obligated to attend. After his first marriage had started to fizzle out, he and Elizabeth had held off as long as they could until divorcing. But the distance was there. She moved on. Armie did, too, only his actions didn't quite align with his mom's hopes and expectations. Chris wasn't her idea of an ideal partner. The relationship wasn't something that would be in the pages of "Town & Country." Except, by now, it was. Dru just decided to ignore it.

Chris let Armie take hold of the magazine while he settled in beside him, maneuvering their bodies together so that they were laying on the chaise beside each other instead of on top of one another. Chris turned to his Kindle while Armie continued to scrutinize the article.

"Look at this tiny shot of the Santa Barbara house," Armie said, pointing to an inset photo and purposely avoiding the word "your." It was theirs now. Next to the grandeur of their Venice house, it looked like a dollhouse. It was certainly charming, but definitely not something worthy of the pages of "AD." Chris wondered why the writer even mentioned it, especially since the photo didn't even have a caption. They'd had almost all of the furniture from the old glass house moved to Santa Barbara. Even though they'd been in the new house for a while, it was still slightly strange to Chris not having his usual midcentury-inspired furniture around. It didn't really fit with the look the cottage either, but Chris was finally thinking about renovating the inside and getting things a little less stuffy.

"Way to put things in perspective," Chris said. Past and present didn't seem to fit together, but he was making do. He fiddled with his wedding band for a few second before turning his attention back to his e-book. Armie stroked at his arm, taking in the rest of the article as salty air wafted over them.

"Are you going to nap or read?"

"Read," Chris said.

"I don't believe you."

"This book is complicated," Chris said.

"Why are you even reading Stephen Hawking?" 

"Respect."

Armie chuckled, pulling Chris closer. "This is what I've always wanted. This life you showed me."

"I haven't showed you anything," Chris said, his eyes focused on his Kindle. "This is just the life we have."

Armie kissed the back of Chris' neck, his beard scratching at the skin. "This is a very charmed life. Being married to you is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Stop being so sentimental," Chris said. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Your books are deeply emotional, raw, and revealing," Armie said, a hint of NPR radio host coming to his voice. "But that's not you. At least not right now."

"Don't quote my own reviews to me," Chris said. "I haven't let that many people in. You'll take what you get and you'll like it."

Armie laughed, rolling the two of them back over, so that Chris was on his back and Armie was kneeling between his legs. "I love you. I love you more than anything."

"I love you, too, Armie," Chris said. He reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling wide as he pulled Armie down, their noses grazing and their foreheads touching. "Opening up isn't easy for me -- except when I'm with you. Then, it's less miserable."

"You always know the right things to say," Armie said.

The bright, golden sunshine made everything extra-saturated, from the green of the low hedge that surrounded the patio to the rippling blue of the water just a few yards away. Chris let out a slow breath and smiled. There was so much to be happy about at that moment that he just wanted to let it all soak in. Armie's kiss brought him back to the here and now. With a reality that bordered on fairy tale, there was no reason to be anywhere else.

Nobody was more surprised to get a message from Jake than Armie. He would never describe their situation as a friendship. Instead, he thought of it as friendly. Necessary because of the circles that Armie and Chris moved in, but not anything that he'd sought to nurture. He wasn't sure, then, why he was pulling his TaylorMade driver out of the trunk and walking towards the driving range knowing that Jake Gyllenhaal would be inside.

"Hey, man," Jake said when he spotted Armie, which was never difficult. He didn't look nervous, but his body language said otherwise. "Thanks for coming out."

"No, thanks for asking," Armie said, reaching to shake Jake's outstretched hand. It was awkward for the both of them. "Do you golf?" Armie asked.

"Not actual golfing, but I like to hit balls. It's good to get rid of pent-up energy."

"Same," Armie said, feeling a wave of relief go from his head down to his toes. "I haven't done it in a while." Jake was cordial and warm, which Armie appreciated. Their past interactions were always polite and civil, so he wasn't expecting things to be different now. What was different was the fact that Chris wasn't there. Jake's email had been clear about one thing: he wanted Armie to come alone.

Jake pulled his baseball cap off, adjusting his hair underneath before putting it on again. He set down the pail of golf balls between the two of them and locked eyes with Armie again. "Congratulations on the play. On everything, really. I'm always congratulating you when we meet up."

"Thanks," Armie said, grabbing a few of the balls and tossing them onto the turf at his feet. He lined one up on the tee and stepped back, getting into position. Small talk was something they both had to do for work, so Armie was skipping it. This situation didn't call for formalities. "Are we here to talk about what I think we are?" 

He assumed that this was the crux of the whole meet-up. He thought that something would come up, knowing that Jake did all of Chris' books, but nothing had materialized until now. He was waiting for Jake to bring it up. 

"I can't say that I wasn't disappointed when I never got the call to record the book," Jake said, swinging his driver, lobbing the ball out wide. "I thought he'd still want me to."

Armie didn't say anything, just casually swinging his own club, sending a ball flying through the air past the 150-yard marker. Chris did have a thing for consistency, but he was also the author with three last names, so there was an argument against that consistency, too. Armie had run the scenario in his head a million different ways by now. Talking through it at a driving range was not one of the ways he thought it'd happen.

"I think I've been a little disenchanted by what I thought was going to happen with everything. Part of me thought that things would be the same apart from living together. I honestly believed that we'd still see each other regularly."

"I don't think that's what happens with anyone," Armie said. Another swing and both of their eyes followed the path of Armie's ball. "I haven't talked to my ex at all since I signed the papers." There was another bout of silence between them. No words, the only sound coming from Armie and Jake was the swing the club and the crack that came when metal came into contact with plastic. 

"I figured that since our relationship was so unorthodox, our divorce would be, too," Jake said. He watched as Armie swung a few more times. Armie was nervous, but thankful for the activity at hand, which kept them from having to talk for long periods of time.

"If you want me to talk to him about the audiobook, I will. I don't want to overstep," Armie finally said. 

"No," Jake said. He swung again. "He's made up his mind and we both know how stubborn he is. Can be. No, is. He's stubborn."

"You'd be surprised," Armie said. He shot off one, two, three more balls and stood up to look over at Jake.

"It's not just that," Jake continued. He pulled his hat off and set it down. He leaned against the half-wall opposite of Armie and sighed. "I'm seeing someone. Things are going really great, but no matter what, I keep thinking that I made a mistake with Chris."

"We've all felt that," Armie said.

"Right. But it's obvious that Chris is using all of this conflict in a good way. His book was great and original and I get that. I'm glad he's using everything he's going through in a constructive way. I just want to know if...I don't know...does he ever talk about how hard it is?"

"He hasn't for a while," Armie said sincerely. "It hasn't been easy, if that's what you're asking."

"But you managed to put him back together after I broke him."

"No, he did that himself."

"My sister likes to remind me that Chris and I were kids when we got together. There's no way we could have lasted forever. We had a good run."

"I don't think my ex-wife could even think of the things you're saying," Armie said. "It was messy and I don't think we could even speak to each other in any sort of polite way at this point."

"We're...cordial," Jake said, his brow furrowing. "I wouldn't say we're friends, but maybe soon I'll be able to talk to him without remembering how I shattered him."

"He'd like that, I'm sure," Armie said. He reached into his bag for bottles of water and handed one to Jake. "I don't want any bad feelings between any of us. We're adults. It's not impossible."

"Honestly, I can't think of a better guy for him," Jake said. "My sister, my nieces, I only hear good things from them."

"Should I tell him about this talk?" 

"You think he'll even believe that it even happened?"

"I almost don't. Neither of us is very good at golf."

Jake took a long sip of water. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, because Jake definitely was, but Armie found himself more drawn to the conversation and openness than the blue eyes and crooked smile. Chris had never talked about their courtship and most of the articles that Armie had read glossed over those early days, too. He wondered what drew Chris in during those early days. He wondered if Jake thought the same thing about him. It wasn't difficult to draw comparisons -- just about every weekly tabloid had already done it -- but there was no way to see what Jake really thought.

"I'd say that we should go for a drink, but we both drove."

"I'd take you up on it," Armie said, not sure if he believed his own words. He knocked a ball around with his club, rolling it back and forth on the turf. "Listen. If you're looking for some real closure, you'll have to get it from him."

"In an ideal world, maybe," Jake said. "I'm taking it a day at a time. Some are better than others. Maybe if you two stopped getting seen all over L.A. or maybe if the internet slowed down for just a few hours, it would be easier for everyone. It's hard."

"It's not as impossible as it seems," Armie said. He hit one more ball, a dud that landed somewhere near the 25-yard sign. "It'll take time. You know him better than I do, maybe more than I ever will. So, you know that it all just takes time." Armie leaned over the partition and gave Jake's shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks for this." He was glad that there was a half-hour drive ahead of him. It would take at least that long to process what had happened and figure out exactly what to tell Chris.

"Did he buy back the rights to his book?"

"No, I just have film rights," Jake said. "And the play was for charity. It would have been a dick move for me to ask for that dollar back."

"So, he wasn't joking. A dollar."

"One dollar."

"One dollar. Wow. This guy. Is he ever going to stop surprising me?"

"Not if he's the guy I know."

"You cooked for me," Armie said as he walked into the kitchen. It felt like he'd been gone forever, but his watch confirmed that his afternoon errand really only took a few hours. He tossed his keys and wallet into a shallow bowl set out just for the task of emptying pockets and noticed that all the doors were open and a cool, gentle breeze was wafting into the house

"Yeah, just don't look in the garbage. I don't know where those boxes came from," Chris said, letting out a soft laugh before Armie kissed him. "Just warming it back up. You smell like grass."

"Is this from the place on Abbot Kinney?" Armie asked as he picked a grape tomato out of the salad. Chris was dutifully slicing a cut of meat that looked to be fresh from the oven. Armie grabbed an avocado from their stash on the counter and started to reach for a knife, but Chris stopped him.

"I remembered to ask for extra dressing this time," Chris said. "Go sit down, I can be domestic for once." He pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and handed it to his husband, "Go, go. Relax. I can handle an avocado."

"Alright, alright. No complaints here," Armie said, striding out to the patio, where he saw a few candles lit and a small cheese platter set out, the tiny crackers already stacked with slices of white and orange cheeses. They ate out there more often than they did in the house, so the setup wasn't that much of a surprise. Armie sat down, leaned back, and took a long sip of beer, glancing back inside to see Chris plating their entrees, a look of focused concentration on his face as he placed pork tenderloin beside heaps of salad. Armie started on the cheeses, knowing it was more for him than Chris anyway. He was more about dessert than appetizers. Armie was the opposite -- he'd never met a starter he didn't want to try. They'd made entire meals out of chicken satay and eggrolls at Thai restaurants or skewered meats at Japanese yakitori restaurants. 

Armie smiled as he saw Chris run his fingers through his hair before carrying the two plates out, carefully setting them down on the table. "So, this is sort of a celebration. I am negotiating -- well...David is -- a deal with PBS. They want me to do a special or maybe even a series where I check out creative writing programs for young people all around California," he said as he sat down beside Armie. "I would interview Dave Eggers in San Francisco and the Writers Group out here. Go to a retreat out in Ojai. Different things."

"That's incredible," Armie said, wrapping his arm around Chris' shoulder and kissing his temple. It would be something new for him and Armie was excited to see him take it on. With appearances on the radio and at big events under his belt, he was getting more comfortable with talking about himself and his work. It was a huge jump to actually be on television, but Armie knew Chris could do it. He'd been spotlight-adjacent for so long, coming in and out of the public eye often enough that people knew who he was, it seemed natural that he'd come into his own.

"I was just going to write about it, but David built on that idea and said it could be a front-of-camera thing," Chris continued, the words speeding up as his excitement built. "And then, I thought that we could do some of it together, because I actually talked to your mom and she promised that the Hammer Foundation would underwrite the entire thing. She said it was her wedding gift to us."

"That's really incredible," Armie said again. "She's not all bad. Or, she's trying not to be."

"Yeah, I've been working on it for a few weeks, but I didn't think it would actually go through. Your mom and I talked about it at the after-party," Chris held up his glass of water, clinking it against Armie's beer. "New adventures, here we come."

"It sounds really, really great," Armie said, rubbing Chris' shoulder. "I didn't know anything about it. You didn't say anything."

"I didn't think it would happen," Chris said. It had been an idea for so long Chris had almost forgotten about it. But when the theater reserved an entire day of the play's performances -- the matinee and evening shows -- for young writers from all over Southern California, he remembered again and worked to flesh it out. David thought it was great, PBS thought it was great, and as long as someone partnered with production to offset the cost, it was definitely something that the network would support. Then, when the pieces were coming together, Chris finally asked Dru if she knew anyone. Her charity network was huge, Chris knew that much, but he never imagined she'd take it on herself. He was hoping for a few phone numbers and got the jackpot, instead. 

"We should have gone out to celebrate," Armie said, motioning at the food, the patio, and the familiar surroundings of their own home. A huge accomplishment deserved better.

"No, this is perfect," Chris said, thoroughly enjoying every bite of food and every time Armie's knee brushed his own. "This is exactly how it should be."

Chris took a deep breath, biting down on the sheets as his fists balled tight. He tried to keep his breathing even, but it was a struggle with Armie's tongue and fingers working wonders on his asshole. He could smell laundry detergent on the bedclothes as he did his best to keep from whimpering too loud, but as Armie tapped on his prostate and licked at his ring, his efforts weren't winning. Sharp sounds came from his throat and his cock dripped, a steady stream of pre-cum leaking as Armie pulled at his balls and stroked him with a loose grip, all the while lapping at his hole. Chris had already cum, shooting into Armie's mouth moments ago, but he didn't even recall going soft as Armie flipped him over, his slack body pliable and willing to go along with anything that Armie had in mind. Chris arched his back and spread his knees even further apart, the motions met with an appreciative grunt from Armie. Chris felt lips and tongue on his hole, unrelenting as his elbows were on the verge of buckling again.

Armie's lips traveled up, kissing a line up Chris' spine, tracing along each bump on the way to his shoulder. He smiled, stroking himself with a lube-slick hand as he nibbled at Chris' skin, kissing the bloom of pink left by his teeth. Armie lined himself and pushed through the tight ring of muscle, eliciting a long, drawn-out groan from Chris, the sound low as it rumbled through his chest. Armie stayed buried balls-deep, fully sheathed in the tight warmth of Chris' chute, feeling along Chris chest with one hand and holding himself up with the other, clasping Chris' own hand on the bed. He felt Chris squeezing around him, clamping down and clenching as he breathed, Armie's lips moving to the back of his neck.

Chris rocked slightly struggling with the stretch and the pain, biting down on his lip as he fucked himself on Armie's length, working a few thick inches in and out, his jaw tight as he felt the rub and burn. He grunted softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as Armie moved his hips, the sound of slick, sweaty skin replacing his own groans. Armie's hands were on his waist, pulling and pushing him back and forth as he drove his dick in and out, pumping with long, steady strokes. 

Armie pulled Chris up, their lips connecting as Armie's chest came into contact with Chris' back, sweat-slick skin moving together as Armie's tongue slid into Chris' mouth. Chris felt hands all over him, his entire body tingling in the familiarity of feeling completely overwhelmed inside and out. One second, Armie's hands were on his neck and chest, the next, down to his abs, adding a playful stroke or tug at his balls and cock. Their lips stayed locked together, the backwards angle leaving Chris' neck craned, a prime position for Armie to squeeze his throat to hold him steady, his hips driving in deep and strong. Chris shuddered, his breath catching with one particularly forceful thrust, his body almost falling over the edge again. 

Slowing down his hips, Armie stayed in deep, reveling in the feeling on his cock, the fluttering squeezes and sudden tightness coming together, drawing a deep ache in his own balls. Chris was completely open to him, every inch of him available for mouth and hands, every move pulling a moan or gasp from Chris' lips. Armie latched onto Chris' neck again, pumping in steady, building a rhythm as he heard the slap of Chris' cock against his abs, his balls drawn up tight.

Armie pressed his hand into Chris abs, sliding it down and squeezing his ring finger and thumb around the base of Chris' dick. His hips worked faster, slamming in against Chris' ass with every thrust, his makeshift cockring adding to the already-intense sensations running up and down Chris' body. He shut his eyes tight, barreling towards his own orgasm as he struggled to maintain control. His body moved on its own accord, hips slamming forward, his arms pushing Chris down to his hands, one leg coming up for leverage as he hammered in. Chris unspooled under him, cumming hard, his body shaking under Armie's. His hole got tighter, practically choking Armie's dick as he ground in hard, pushing as deep as he could go before shooting his own load, grinding in as he shot, a deep groan filling the room.

Collapsing on top of Chris' body, Armie nibbled at his ear and rubbed his nose against the back of Chris' neck. He felt Chris' body relax underneath him, a contented sigh escaping his lips. Armie pulled Chris close as he rolled off of him, their limbs in a tangle of sweaty skin and crumpled sheets.

The Venice Beach Public Library wasn't the prettiest or most historic building around, but Chris appreciated how close it was to the house. A few blocks was all it took to get him to a calm, quiet place with the same familiar library smell that he remembered from his childhood. Books, Scotch tape, and a combination of old paper and new plastic: it was all there. He'd just dropped off a huge box of donations, books that didn't quite fit in the office's built-in bookshelves and ones that publishers had sent to him, hoping to get a quote or two for a new author's book. He took slow steps up and down the library aisles, running his fingertips over the books and soaking in the atmosphere. Old favorites were sitting alongside new friends, hardcover editions that Chris could remember from high school and college sat unchanged. He'd been slow to adopt digital books and now he'd be hard-pressed to go anywhere without his Kindle, but there was something about actual books that held a certain magic.

Fiction gave way to non-fiction, where Chris spent very little time. Cookbooks sat alongside history books. He'd just finished a book on astrophysics an even though it was intended for a wide audience, he still felt his head spinning at the concepts he'd been exposed to. Fiction was the place for him, he decided. He could appreciate all the hard work that went into researching something like a look at WWII, but he'd leave that to the pros.

"There you are," Armie said, his voice low, as he saw Chris round a corner. "You said you'd be right out."

"Sorry, got distracted." 

"Yeah, I figured. You knew I wasn't going to wait in the car."

Chris blushed, reaching out to rub at Armie's forearm. "Give me a few minutes."

"Take your time," Armie said before kissing Chris' forehead. "I'll be around."

Back among the shelves, Chris let himself daydream again, his brain bouncing ideas around as he zigzagged through the various sections of the library. He saw Armie on his phone, sitting in the young adult area, which was completely deserted at the moment. Of course, Chris made sure his books were in their proper place, chuckling at seeing the old covers again. A few looked tattered, like they'd been checked out a million times. Others had dog-eared pages and one looked almost destroyed, with coffee stains warping entire sections of the book. He made a mental note to get a new copy sent over. Straightening up the section -- and the few books that were filed under the letter G, thankful that his various last names were just steps apart -- as best as he could, he wandered back over to Armie.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Armie asked as Chris approached.

"I wasn't looking for anything specific," Chris said. "But every writer looks for their books. It's an instinct."

"That's when you usually find what you need," Armie said, getting up on his feet. In this part of the library, the bookshelves were only half as high as in the adult area, making Armie look even taller than he was. 

"Thanks for indulging me," he said as he felt Armie wrap an arm around his waist.

Chris tapped an email out on his phone as the two of them walked out, the familiar swoosh sound of a sent message coming as soon as they stepped over the threshold. "There's probably a lot of good that the show can do," Chris said. "For literacy, for libraries, for kids and schools. We need to make sure that it's doing as much as possible."

"That's probably why my mom wanted to get the foundation involved. It's a passion project for you, so she wants to help out. It makes her look good, too."

He didn't know if they were requests or demands, because it seemed to blur when he typed them out. David was making sure that the show was what Chris wanted, just a way for young writers to get a little bit of mentorship and to give everyone out there a clearer idea of what being a writer really was. Sure, there was a lot of time spent in coffee shops and a fair share of creative expression that looked like self-indulgence, but it was a business, too. He wished someone had told him that at the beginning. It was as much about selling a story as crafting it, but there was a huge possibility of losing sight of everything in the process, which was often why so many people quit. 

Armie could almost hear the gears turning in Chris' head. Ideas were floating around, coming in and out of focus at a rapid-fire pace and Chris was doing his best to figure them out. Armie had seen it plenty of times. Notebooks filled with text and scribbles, words crossed out just as often as they weren't. He was familiar with the diagrams, storyboards, and flow charts that would turn the most logical man into a maniac. There was a shoebox full of Post-It notes that Chris had finally thrown away during the move. It was, he explained, an experiment gone wrong.

Chris reached for Armie's hand over the gearshift, not even realizing that he'd done it as he tapped on his phone with his free hand. Armie treasured the moment like he always did, filing the memory away and smiling as he turned onto Abbott Kinney. The street was buzzing, which was great for the shoppers, but they made for a snail-like pace as Armie drove. Chris thumb ran over Armie's knuckles, absentmindedly going up and down the peaks and valleys as they inched closer to home. 

"She owes us for donating so much of the money from the play to the foundation," Armie said. "Did you think of it that way?"

"No," Chris said. "I'm not that cynical."

"Technically, the play paid for the show."

"Stop," Chris said. "Let me enjoy this."

Armie silenced his voice, but he didn't keep his mind from wandering. He didn't want to taint the success of the play by adding on an unwanted layer of dread on top of it. If Chris was going to look at the situation through rose-colored glasses, Armie would let him. He'd do his best to let things happen, but if his mom was going to keep Chris from realizing this, there'd be no hesitation. He'd step in if he had to, but Armie hoped against all hope that it wouldn't come to that.


	24. Chapter 24

"Jesus, Chris. You can't just stop like that," Armie said, doing his best to balance himself on his feet. He looked around to see what had made Chris literally stop in his tracks and spotted Jake at a table right on the edge of the deck. He was having a glass of red wine and talking to a dark-haired, stubbled companion.

"Sorry. Sorry," Chris said. "I just didn't expect that." The two of them were in Santa Barbara again, having lunch at Stearn's Wharf. The Harbor was a tourist favorite, but with the best views of the harbor, Chris and Armie would risk the crowds. It seemed they weren't the only ones.

"So, that's Dan, I assume," Armie said. They'd never met the architect that Maggie had talked about and neither of them had done anything to find out more about him. He was long and lean, Chris noticed, and his dark, thick glasses gave him an air of sophistication. Chris didn't know that Jake still came up the coast, adding one more layer to the surprise.

"Why does this keep happening to us?"

"Well, go over and say 'hi.'"

Chris took a deep breath and headed towards the table. Jake had scored one of the best tables at the corner of the deck. "Hey," Chris said as he approached. "I didn't know you'd be up here."

"Chris," Jake said, his face going from a casual grin to furrowed brow to a nervous smile. "This is Dan. I wanted to show him what California is all about. Are you here by yourself?"

Chris offered his hand and Dan shook it with a firm grip. "It's nice to meet you," Dan said. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Armie is actually here," Chris said. "We're actually checking on the renovations at the house." He heard his voice trail off.

"That's really great," Jake said. He turned to Dan and explained, "Chris has a historic cottage. It's in West Beach. Arts and Crafts style. It's amazing."

"Built after the earthquake in 1925," Chris added.

"That sounds charming," Dan said. "Jake's mentioned it a few times."

"Obviously, I...we can't change the outside. We're just updating the inside."

"Hey," Armie said, putting his arm around Chris' waist. "Table's ready. Nice seeing you, Jake." He shook Dan's hand and introduced himself, "Armie Hammer."

"I've also heard a lot about you," Dan said.

"We should sit together," Jake suggested. "The table is big enough. Sit down."

"It's fine," Chris said. "We'll be talking about the house and I'm sure Dan doesn't want to talk shop. Enjoy your time here. As an unofficial ambassador, Santa Barbara is happy to have you."

First the Oscars, now on his home turf, Chris just had to accept that the shadow of Jake Gyllenhaal wouldn't ever be that far from his own. After he and Armie had gone to their own table, which was thankfully on the other side of the huge deck, talk turned to the house, just as expected. They'd hired an expert to return the exterior to its former grandeur, stripping layers of old paint and painstakingly replicating the original colors, which Chris remembered his grandpa saying was a dusty green. The trim was white and a deep red-brown, a change from the beige and brown that it was while Chris was growing up. 

Inside, Armie decided to smooth down the walls and paint the interior a clean, bright white. That way, Chris' midcentury furniture would stand out. Plus, the bathrooms would be brought up to date so Armie wouldn't have to duck under the showerhead and the toilets wouldn't run. It was tough to handle the entire project from L.A., but the city of Santa Barbara had guidelines for what they could and couldn't do. Those rules made most of the decisions for Armie and Chris, since there was no going against the historical society's mandates. It would be a change from the tiny picture in "Architectural Digest," but the designer assured both of them that the result would be worthy of any magazine.

However, the trip wasn't just an excuse to head to the Central Coast. It was also a break from filming the PBS series. Chris and Armie had been busy crisscrossing the state to film the docu-series. And although Armie had only been in one of the four episodes that they'd filmed so far, he was happy to be traveling alongside his husband for such an important gig. Halfway through, Chris thought they deserved a break from the grind. The crew appreciated the sentiment, too, and everyone took a week off to reconvene with their families. All the while, Chris and Armie were in contact with the designer, the contractors, and the historical society to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Chris was grateful for the distraction, which kept him from trying to crane his neck over in Jake's direction. As he worked on his cioppino, he wondered exactly what it'd be like to step into the house he grew up in and not recognize anything. It was time for a change, but he was genuinely afraid that doing it all in one fell swoop would be overwhelming. And although Armie was the one that insisted they say hello, he didn't look over his shoulder even once. Whatever Jake was doing with Dan, both Armie and Chris would be oblivious.

Seagulls cawed overhead and the sun started to dip in the sky by the time Armie had finished his second beer and Chris had steeled himself to the realization that he'd be walking into what amounted to a brand-new house. As they walked out of the restaurant, dodging beach cruisers and dog walkers on the pier, Chris reached for Armie's hand and squeezed it tight. Thinking about Jake and Dan together didn't necessarily make Chris jealous or sad, he was actually glad to see Jake with someone, to see him genuinely smile, and to know that they were in a place that included cross-country trips.

"Ready?" Chris asked as they pulled up to the house.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Armie said, opening the passenger door before Chris even shut off the car.

"How did they manage to keep the wisteria up on the porch like that?" Chris asked, taking slow steps towards the house. It looked fresh all around, from the roof to the window trimming and columns to the walls themselves. Even the picket fence had been replaced; the faded white gone and redwood slats in their place.

"They know what they're doing," Armie said. He unlocked the front door, which was completely refinished and gleaming and the two stepped inside.

"Oh wow," the two of them said, nearly in unison. The house was bright. The stuffy, slightly oversized furniture was gone, replaced with most of the things from the Glass House. The hardwood floor had been sanded and refinished, providing a darker contrast to the new white walls. It was inviting now, not foreboding. Chris looked inside, running his fingers over the doorframes and windowsills. It was not at all unfamiliar, he could still feel the spirit of the house in everything and the as Armie walked down the hall, Chris even heard the familiar squeak of the floorboard.

"It's so different," Chris said. "But it's not."

"I like your things in here," Armie said. "I didn't think it would, but it looks really nice."

Chris walked from room to room, noticing all the changes and checking to see what was the same. Unfortunately, his Wolverine sticker didn't make it, until he saw it in a tiny wooden frame hanging above a light switch in the spare bedroom. When he made his rounds and found himself in the kitchen, he saw Armie in the backyard, pulling a tarp off of the patio furniture.

"I like it a lot. Thanks for encouraging me," Chris said. "It was time."

"Keep going forward, even if your heart is telling you to look back," Armie said.

"You know I hate it when you quote my own work to me," Chris said, coming up behind Armie wrapping his arms around his chest. He rested his cheek against Armie's shoulder blade and smiled, breathing in the subtle scent of cologne and eucalyptus-tinged air.

"PBS is loving all the footage," Armie said, leaning back. "You've got the golden touch."

Chris' arms went down lower, hooking around Armie's waist. "It's nothing. Just talking to kids and teachers. It's like when I'm on the panel at UCLA."

"The house is phenomenal," Armie said. "The whole world is yours right now. Honestly, I can't believe I'm the one going through it with you."

"Stop," Chris said. "It's just all happening at once. I wouldn't have ever even thought of it if you weren't always encouraging me."

"You deserve it. You deserve it all. You're so talented. You're so driven and focused. I've never seen anything like it," Armie said as he turned around. He pressed his lips to Chris' and pulled their bodies together.

"We're already married, you don't have to keep flattering me."

"I'll stop when you stop being so amazing."

Chris settled into Armie's body, his hands moving in slow circles across Armie's back and his head resting on Armie's shoulder. It was the longest quiet moment they'd had in so long, he couldn't even recall the last time they'd just been this close. Flying across the state and driving from city to city put them in close quarters, but both of them were so concerned with call sheets and daily schedules to just be with each other. As Chris felt the warmth of Armie's body, the thought of reading up on his next prospective interview and researching education methods disappeared from his overactive mind.

"We carved our initials in the pier right here," Chris said, kneeling down and inspecting a post in the wooden railing. "It's not there anymore. Good and bad."

"It's good to know that some infrastructure gets taken care of," Armie said, offering his hand and pulling Chris upright. Armie had asked to see the places Chris spent his childhood, from his old school -- a private Catholic school, complete with uniforms, nuns, and Bible study -- to the Santa Barbara library right off of State Street and now, the pier. They even walked by the newsstand that Chris worked during high school, which was now an organic fruit stand, proving that print journalism really was having a hard time and Californians really were all about healthy eating. Chris even explained how during his sophomore year, his best friend had killed himself, something that most of his fans knew about from his first book. Armie didn't know where the lines blurred when it came to fact and fiction, but he did recall Chris mentioning it in passing. 

"We used to come to the pier after school to get corndogs and Coke," Chris said. "No soda in my house growing up. Kids always find a way, but my grandparents probably knew."

"Did you keep coming after he died?"

"I would still come out here," Chris said. "It's hard not to when you live so close."

"You couldn't catch a break," Armie said. "You went through a lot of loss so young. It was nothing like that for me."

"We can't all be as lucky as me," Chris said, leaning on the railing, his eyes looking down at the dark, rippling salt water below. The roar of the crashing waves became a dull hum in the background and the reflection of the lights on the water, some coming from the oil rigs offshore and others from the boats out night fishing, made for an entrancing combination. 

Armie leaned on the railing right by Chris, rubbing his back with one hand. "Nobody should have to go through their parents, their friends, and their grandparents passing so early in their lives. It's a lot."

"It's not something I think about," Chris said. "There wasn't much I could do about it."

"I saw that they had a special case of your books in the library," Armie said.

"That's silly," Chris said. "I'm not a local hero. They just did that and sent me a certificate saying I was an exemplary citizen. It's not a big deal."

"There's something about this place," Armie said, reaching for Chris' hand. "I can tell why you keep coming back."

"We come back because it's not so hectic," Chris said. "When we're here, everyone knows not to call or email. It's a bubble that the rest of the world can't get into."

"Little do they know, we still get cell reception and Wi-Fi."

"I think they're fully aware that we just ignore everything when we're here," Chris said. "It doesn't take more than a few straight-to-voicemail calls for people to stop trying."

Armie leaned in and kissed Chris' temple. "Do you regret moving away from all of this?"

"No. It's better to be away. That way, this place is always special. Home is in L.A. This is like coming back to a fantasy. There are bad memories and good ones, happy ones, sad ones -- it's a lot. I like clear divisions. But I have you to keep it all together. I'd go crazy without it."

"You deserve more credit than you think," Armie said.

Chris didn't respond, still soaking in the familiarity and the nostalgia that was all around him. He was glad there was a lot of happiness to show Armie. Sure, there was a reminder of tragedy every time they came up, but now that Armie could see that there were plenty of good times to temper the bad, Chris could breathe a little easier, could let down his guard when it came to talking about himself and what he'd been through.

"There's a hotel bar that I want to show you at the Biltmore, but I know Jake will be staying there, so we probably don't want to hang out there."

"Things went fine earlier," Armie said. "But it's up to you."

"When it's clear, you can see the Channel Islands from the lobby. Maybe we can go for brunch, where we'll see him for sure."

"Are you okay with him and Dan? Seeing them together?"

"He deserves to be happy, too," Chris said, pulling Armie along as they walked the length of the pier. "And he was smiling, so I assume he's doing okay." He let out a long breath. "It's serious if he's bringing him out here. Santa Barbara, I mean. The guy's probably been to L.A."

"It's probably best if you don't think about it," Armie said, chuckling. He knew the wheels in Chris' head had been turning since lunch, human nature dictated it. The day's activities were a good distraction, but Armie knew the subject would creep back in eventually.

"Maybe we should get you a drink," Chris said. "You're starting to make a lot of sense."

Jake remembered always joking about having a standing reservation at the Four Seasons -- also known as the Biltmore -- for Sunday brunch. The truth was, he'd befriended the manager of the hotel, so he and Chris never had a problem getting in, even when the wait had stretched to two hours, which it often did in the summertime, when tourists flooded Santa Barbara. And even though it had been years since he'd come up for brunch, all it took to get a table was a single call. He sipped his mimosa and listened intently as Dan explained how he'd read all about the hotel's renovation, which cost upwards of $300 million and restored it to its 1920s grandeur. It was fun to see him impassioned, Jake thought, even though Spanish architecture was worlds away from what Dan did. He was enamored with every inch of the place and Jake couldn't help but be caught up in it, too.

"It's so different from the city, I can see why you like it, but I could never live here."

"You get used to it," Jake said. "Then, it's not so bad at all. Everyone living in New York says they can't live anywhere else, but this place will change anyone's mind."

"Can you get falafel at 2 a.m.?"

"Better. You can get tamales, dirty dogs, and street tacos. I really miss those."

"Your Californian is showing," Dan joked. He saw a smile play at the corners of Jake's mouth, but it transformed into a stiff frown when his bright blue eyes caught sight of something over Dan's shoulder.

"I'll be right back," Jake said, already halfway out of his chair when the words came out. Dan turned around to see what Jake had seen and saw Armie and Chris at the hostess podium.

"What happened to your eye?" Jake asked, his jaw tight.

"Jake, calm down," Chris said. "It's nothing." He had barely gotten his sunglasses off and up onto his head when he saw his ex-husband barreling towards him. "I tripped coming up the porch and we had to go to urgent care. It's just a cut."

Jake moved in to get a closer look at the butterfly bandage over Chris' left eyebrow. "It didn't need any stitches," Armie said. He reached for Jake's shoulder, but he shrugged it off almost immediately. "It looks worse than it is. No concussion."

"You can walk that house blindfolded," Jake said. "What happened?"

"We repaved the front porch. The steps are higher and I wasn't paying attention," Chris said, his voice low. "Don't remind me of how clumsy I am. I don't need everyone here knowing I can't walk up three steps."

"Mr. Hammer, your table is ready," the three of them heard.

"Everything is okay, Jake. I'm still the uncoordinated klutz you remember."

"We should get to our table," Armie said, doing his best to soothe the tension. "Have a nice brunch, Jake. It was nice to see you again this weekend."

"Chris, be careful," Jake said. "Take care of yourself."

"I'm fine," Chris said again. "See you around."

Jake watched as the host led Armie and Chris to the other side of the dining room and out to the patio. It was the furthest possible spot from where Jake and Dan were seated. 

"Everything alright?" Dan asked when Jake sat down again.

"He fell. I overreacted when I saw that bandage."

"That concern..." Dan started, his words slow and deliberate. "It's never going to go away. It shouldn't. You guys went through plenty."

"I shouldn't abandon you at the table, either. Like I said, I overreacted. Sorry."

"Your omelet is probably cold. Should we head over to the station for another one?"

"Do you ever get sick of ocean views?" Armie asked, his hand running up and down Chris' thigh. Chris' eyes were locked on the waves crashing just a few yards from where they were seated.

"Give me another thirty-something years and I'll let you know."

"I saw waffles in there."

"There are fresh tortillas, too, unless they took those off the brunch menu. Lots of Mexican food."

Armie smiled at the server as he set down a French press and a three-tiered rack with plates of toast, croissants, jam, butter, and miniature muffins. "Thank you," Armie and Chris said in unison. 

"You look sexy," Armie said, pouring coffee for the both of them.

"Black eye, black sweater, nothing too special."

"The tight sweater always does it for me."

"Fitted," Chris said, leaning into Armie's body. If his swelling didn't go down, they'd have to wait to film the last four episodes. That would delay production for everyone, so he hoped that a few days would be all it took. With an entire crew depending on him, the last thing he needed was to be a problem. 

Since he'd been announced as an honorary director at the Hammer Museum and its accompanying Hammer Foundation, Chris seemed to have more resources at his disposal than ever before. Coupled with PBS's backing, he had a dedicated team that worked to get his vision out of his head and onto digital hard drives. It was the most time he'd ever spent in front of a camera crew, but he made it a point to always give the spotlight to the person he was interviewing. Teachers didn't get enough attention. Writers did, but not for their work to promote literacy. Chris was hoping to change all of that, to offer a way to not only illuminate the writing process, which was notoriously secretive and misunderstood, but to show everyone that storytelling is something anyone can do. 

The last stop before Santa Barbara had been Ojai, where Armie had agreed to be featured at a poetry-writing retreat. He'd struggled to express anything, falling back on sarcastic jokes and cliches before taking things seriously and even reading his poem on-camera. It wasn't anything spectacular, but seeing someone in the public eye open up with struggling to create something would surely resonate with someone, Chris thought. And I that inspired even one people to write a poem, he'd accomplish exactly what he set out to do. That episode was still being edited, but Chris had seen clips of Armie looking nervous, blushing as he recited his work. It was sweet and humanizing, taking him off the silver screen and into something akin to a classroom, a place just about anyone could relate to.

"Did he honestly think that I punched you in the eye?" Armie asked, finally broaching the issue at hand and snapping Chris right back to the present moment from his hazy daydream.

"He wasn't thinking," Chris said. By now, Armie had brought back so much food from the brunch buffet that the table was loaded with waffles, bagels and smoked salmon, an omelet, and even a shrimp cocktail. There was even a Bloody Mary on the table, even though neither of them could remember ever ordering it or even wanting it. "He just saw me and didn't know what to think. I figured we'd see him here, but I wanted you to see the place."

"It's pretty great," Armie said, leaning back and taking in the view of the Pacific on one side and the Spanish style hotel on the other. "And the food's amazing. Being with you is also amazing."

"We haven't been apart at all," Chris said. "It's about time you get sick of me."

"Not going to happen."

"I'll hold you to that," Chris said, smiling and then wincing as the pain from his cut shot through him. "Ow."

"You never talk about living here," Dan said, looking around the dining room, hoping to get a refill on his mimosa. Jake was working on his omelet, oblivious.

"It was great, but I'd have to drive down to L.A. too often, so it wasn't practical," Jake said. "It's paradise here, don't get me wrong. It just didn't work."

"It's beautiful," Dan said. "So different from Los Angeles."

"It's a college town. A retirement community. It's sleepy. It was what I thought I wanted when I moved here," Jake said. "Same for New York. It's where I have to be now if I want to spend time with my family."

"Do you think the turmeric-infused mimosa would be good?"

"Definitely not," Jake said, knowing full well that Dan would order it anyway. There was no point in detoxing via turmeric when Champagne would undo it right away. Or maybe turmeric was anti-inflammatory? Jake couldn't keep track of what did what, especially when Dan was constantly proselytizing the virtues of kombucha, probiotics, and reishi mushrooms.

"Did you think you'd see him so much after the divorce?"

"Not like this. I figured we'd only see each other with my sister. He said he wanted to distance himself from the movie industry, but that's not really happening."

"Does that make you mad?"

"Not at all," Jake said, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room. He couldn't see Chris and Armie. "I didn't know they'd be up here this weekend. I didn't expect to see them and we ran into them twice. I told you it's a small town."

"Charming," Dan said. "I've never actually talked to Chris. I've read his books, though."

Jake wasn't sure if that was an invitation for conversation, but he knew that it was probably best if Dan and Chris didn't actually sit down to talk. Jake had spoken with Armie, but when he thought back to the conversations, they weren't ever very deep. Small talk was the only thing the really did, aside from talking about what they'd heard about scripts floating around, possible roles, and which producers were working on which high-profile projects. 

"Maybe we'll see them at Thanksgiving or Christmas," Jake said, trying to think of a situation for them to come together again.

"He seems very serious," Armie said. "I thought Jake would be with a fun-loving, laid-back sort of guy."

'Maybe he needed someone grown-up,' Chris thought. 'Someone stable and predictable.' He pushed the comparison out of his mind. Jake's motivations weren't any of his concern. However, seeing Dan in person and speaking to him, brief as it was, made him real. He wasn't just someone Maggie talked about anymore. He was a living, breathing man that Chris didn't have to imagine any longer.

"He's probably nice. Maggie likes him," Chris said. He looked over at Armie, his golden hair almost shimmering in the sunlight as he ate and their legs touching under the table. "I didn't think we'd ever meet, to be honest."

"Really?" Armie asked. "It was bound to happen."

"Not like this, it wasn't," Chris said as he poured himself even more coffee. "I wasn't supposed to look like I'd been in a bar fight." He'd moved from savory to sweet, picking at a plate of fruit that Armie had brought to offset the syrupy waffles and maple-glazed bacon they'd been eating.

"You don't get preferential treatment. Jake and I are...fine," Armie said. "I see him all the time."

"You see him for work," Chris said, finishing off the last of his food. He sat back, feeling Armie's arm behind his shoulders. "It's never not going to be awkward, is all I'm saying. With Dan or with anyone else, it'll always be weird."

"It doesn't have to be," Armie said. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have the charm and charisma of a Hollywood leading man," Chris said.

Armie leaned in and kissed his temple, making sure to keep it as gentle as possible. "Forget about it," he said softly.

Chris tapped at his phone as he waited in the lobby. Armie had excused himself to go to the bathroom and Chris hoped that he'd be able to sneak an afternoon nap in before the two of them headed back to Venice Beach. 

"It was nice to meet you, finally," Chris heard. Dan was extending his hand and Chris shook it, slightly dumbfounded.

"Sorry," Chris said, scrambling to slide his phone back into his pocket. "Same, yes. It was good meeting you. Just wished I didn't look like a mess."

"You look fine," Dan said. "We all have our moments. I hope I'll see you around."

"Me, too," Chris said. "Where's Jake?"

"Waiting for the valet," Dan said. "I saw you as I was coming from the restroom. Couldn't just leave without saying something."

"When are you headed back to New York?" Chris asked.

"This weekend. We're going to spend a few days in Los Angeles and then fly home," Dan explained.

Chris felt a hand at his back and looked over his shoulder to see Armie standing there, smiling. "See you around," Armie said. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

"It was great to finally meet you both," Dan said. "Can finally put real voices to the stories I read and the interviews we see."

Armie and Chris watched as he walked towards the door, where Jake was getting into their rental car. He offered a wave goodbye and a smile to the both of them before they drove off. "Did I dream that?" Chris asked. Armie playfully pinched his side and he recoiled, swatting Armie's hand away. "Wide awake."

"C'mon, it's time to get back to the real world."


	25. Chapter 25

It had been a week since he signed the papers and Chris found himself staring out at gray skies and incessant drizzle. He still felt numb, a little bit shocked, and wondered if he might be in denial. He'd managed to book a flight to London, took a train to Oxford, and then somehow found himself in Manchester. He wouldn't be surprised if he took a horse and buggy, his mind was so hazy. The trip started out as a literary sojourn, stopping to see places he'd only read about in real life, but the pity party he'd wallowed in was actually amazing for research. As he wandered around in solitary introspection, he took in the sights and took everything slowly. He moved at a snail's pace, looking at everything at every museum, spending hours just drinking tea and scribbling ideas in his notebook. London was the quickest place he could get to after packing some clothes -- not enough, it turned out. He thought it may have been a case of self-punishment, going to a place that marked another huge fight with Jake, but before he could change his mind, he was on his way.

"Can I get you some water? A coffee, maybe?"

"I'm fine right now," Chris said, looking over his shoulder after the waiter stepped away. He saw a lean figure with a full sleeve tattoo down one arm and another halfway down the other arm, a gleaming white smile, and stubble that may have been slightly too groomed. They were in a pub, where Chris had initially planned on taking his fish and chips back to his hotel, but the man's charisma and warm demeanor kept Chris from leaving. There was a soccer game on the TV, because that's just how things worked on this side of the Atlantic, and though Chris knew the basics of the game, the man took it upon himself to explain the game. He was American. 

Chris noticed the lack of accent right away, which made for a quick camaraderie. What Chris didn't know was that he was talking to a footballer, which was another thing that was common on this side of the Atlantic, and that he'd be heading home with him after the final whistle. From what Chris felt in his ass -- the familiar emptiness and dull ache that came after a night of too much sex -- it seemed they both had a hell of a time.

"I don't have anywhere to be today," Geoff said. "You don't have to leave."

Chris leaned against the window and met Geoff's eyes. One-night stands weren't his style, though he'd been with Jake so long that he wasn't quite sure what his style even was at this point. Dark eyes. That was new. "I googled you," Chris said, motioning towards the framed jerseys on the wall. Geoff Cameron. Houston Dynamo. U.S. Men's National Team. Stoke City. "You're a big deal."

"I never got your last name, so I couldn't do the same," Geoff said. Chris heard the slightest Boston accent. Geoff hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. His hair was still wet from his shower and Chris got an eyeful of lean muscle and chiseled legs.

"It's Gyllenhaal," Chris said. "Or it was. It's not anymore. But you'll get the most dirt if you search Chris or Christopher Gyllenhaal."

"Should I know that name?" Geoff asked.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Chris said, crossing the room to sit at the kitchen counter. The house was big. He'd walked past a few extra bedrooms from the master and still had more to see. "Do all soccer players shave their legs? Is it for aerodynamics?" Chris changed the subject as quickly as he could.

"Not all of us," Geoff said. "I'm high maintenance. I shave so that the tape from my shin guards doesn't rip out the hair. They don't call it soccer over here. I told you that last night."

"As fascinating as this all is, I should get going," Chris said. "I'm not used to this morning-after situation."

"Let me drive you to your hotel. It's the polite thing to do."

"I'll take you up on that," Chris said. "I'm at the Gotham."

"So, what is your name now?"

"Back to Christopher Lewis," Chris said. "Divorce. Pretty fresh one. Google that. Not sure how the news cycle works over here, but it was all over the tabloids back at home."

"That would explain a few things," Geoff said.

"What happened to polite?"

"Sorry, the name's just now registering. Jake Gyllenhaal. 'Brokeback Mountain.' You're the guy married to him. You're an author, right? It's still early, otherwise I could think of more things I might know you from."

"I was married to him. We're not together anymore."

"I've been a rebound before, you're in good hands. And after last night, I could be convinced to see you again."

"I'm not looking for anything right now," Chris said.

"Neither am I, which is great for both of us."

It was a week of dodging calls, ignoring his email, and re-reading all of the English lit he only had time to skim during his college years. He met up with Geoff after practice every day and remembered why he loved Jake post-workout. The sweat, the adrenaline, the weird balance between being half-exhausted and completely energized, it all made for hot sessions that always ended up with Chris seeing stars, just like the ones that were inked on Geoff's arms, along with the words "discipline," "dedication," and "desire."

Manchester wasn't the most exciting place, but when Geoff insisted that Chris see a game and they drove the hour through sheep meadows down to Stoke-on-Trent for one of his home games, he felt the electricity in the crowd and the passion on the field and in the stands. It was amazing to see from the field. He'd been to concerts and sporting events before, but they were nothing like this. Chanting. Jeering. The whizzing of the ball as it flew from player to person. Chris was in awe the entire time. Even though Geoff's team lost the game, Chris did his best to console him when they got back to his house. Champion or not, Geoff deserved to be treated like a winner. It was Chris' duty to make sure it happened all night.

Chris snapped back to reality when he heard the garage door, not sure why his mind had wandered back to that particular moment. That trip was a blur, half because he felt completely numb and half because Geoff had been a very welcome kind of distraction. He could hardly remember what happened after the divorce, it was so clouded in confusion and rash, rushed decisions. He'd gone to England alone, gone to Washington, D.C., where he spoke on the Senate floor to plead for education reform alongside a few other prominent writers, and then jetted to Seattle to concentrate on polishing up "Everything After the Wedding." He sent the final draft from Santa Barbara and settled in Venice Beach. All the while, he wondered if he'd ever feel a real connection with anyone again. What had transpired with Jake had been so draining that he considered just giving up on looking for anything.

"It's hot out there," Armie said, tapping at the thermostat to blast the air conditioning inside the house. He walked over and gave Chris a quick kiss before heading back to the kitchen.

"Do you need help?" Chris asked, getting up off the couch and stretching. He followed the sound of rustling and sat down on a stool, watching Armie load the fridge with a fresh round of groceries.

"No, I'm almost done. Were you taking a nap on the couch?"

"No. Maybe? I was just daydreaming," Chris said.

"I'll make you a coffee," Armie said. "And we can talk about how you're making me look bad at the museum and foundation."

Back in the living room, with all of the back doors open to the outside world, Armie joked that the museum board had seen more of him and Chris in the last few months than they had for the entirety of Armie's life. After the show's initial episodes aired, the Hammer name got even more attention. People were curious about the foundation, its connection to Chris and Armie, and the museum itself. While it had always been a Los Angeles institution, it was getting some attention on the world stage. Traveling exhibits wanted in. New artists wanted to show there. Once seen as a stuffy and staid venue, it got an injection of energy that nobody could have predicted. The foundation and, in turn, Dru, appreciated it. Chris shrugged it off. The foundation paid for all of the show's production costs, so he was grateful for having it involved. 

"You're mom's favorite now, that's for sure," Armie said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

"She hated having my name engraved on that wall in the lobby," Chris said. "But I think she got over that."

Armie rolled his eyes. "She was probably more upset about getting rid of Liz's name."

"If PBS wants four more, the foundation will do it. But after twelve episodes, they said we'd have to do a brand-new proposal."

"Is that what you want?"

Chris shrugged and took a long sip of coffee. "Right now, I have to finish putting together the book that goes along with the show. Then, who knows what'll happen?"

Armie had filmed an entire movie while Chris had zigzagged across the state and filmed an extra episode in Washington, D.C. Though there was nothing about moviemaking that could be described as predictable, there was a routine of filming, waiting, and the inevitable promotion. Toss in a film festival sometimes and Chris had the routine down. He'd been through it so many times that he didn't even think about it anymore. However, Armie's latest movie, which was about the life of activist Cleve Jones, felt bigger than usual. It would probably get a lot more attention. There was already award buzz.

Suddenly a very visible and vocal part of the LGBTQ community, Chris found himself being asked to flip coins at sporting events, wave at crowds during Pride parades, and, shoulder-to-shoulder with Armie, offer some words of support. Nobody had referred to him as reclusive anymore and he was glad to help where he could. When he was with Jake, he was happy to stay out of the spotlight. Jake had his causes. Chris didn't really have any of his own, but that changed when he found himself with the spare time and energy that came after the divorce. That empty space needed to be filled with something.

Post-England, when he'd been in Washington, he'd met up with Representative Brian Sims, an openly gay member of the Pennsylvania State House, who had suggested that Chris be more cognizant of his influence. He could be an agent of change, be someone that made a difference. Chris could be the first gentleman of Pennsylvania, Brian had said after he announced that he'd be running for governor. But the siren song of California was too strong to resist. Pennsylvania couldn't compare, even though Brian had been very charming. So charming that he was more than happy to help Chris out on his most recent trip to D.C. for the show. No hard feelings.

"It's all about the long game," Brian had said. "You have to think about it in five, 10 years. I could be governor, you could push your initiatives from a huge stage."

Politics and acting weren't that different. As Chris stared at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his muscles achy, he realized that both industries were as much about validation as they were about art and talent or genuine concern for the public. Brian was a huge part of Philadelphia politics. He had been for years. Chris threw his hand over Brian's chest and sighed. 

"Stop talking," Chris said. "Relax. Turn it off just for a little and see what it feels like. It's wonderful."

"I know it's not exciting," Brian said softly. "But it's stable. Steady."

"It's not about that," Chris said, his eyes still closed. "Trust me. We wouldn't work."

Chris rubbed his foot against Armie's. He closed his eyes and let his head fall down onto Armie's shoulder. He wondered if life would ever settle down. While everyone talked about how boring and dull 9-to-5 jobs were, wouldn't it be easier if he and Armie had perfectly predictable schedules? Armie cleared his throat and Chris glanced up, meeting his blue eyes.

"You've got coffee in your veins and you're falling asleep on me?"

"I'm distracted. Should we go for a walk?"

The California sunshine was already intense, even though Armie and Chris hadn't even had lunch yet. Armie had pulled a baseball cap on over his unruly waves and Chris' aviators were doing their best to keep the rays at bay. In the short time that they'd been at the new house, the neighborhood had already changed. The old-school beach houses were coming down and brand-new houses were coming up in their place. It was sad to see a few of them go, but there were no rules against it, Chris realized. Not every house was a historic building and he couldn't blame the homeowners for selling. They were all making a fortune, after all.

"It's not going to be weird having her here," Armie said. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not," Chris said. He pulled Armie down a different street than they usually took, hoping to catch a glimpse of the main drag between the houses. The warm weather meant an influx of people, even more than normal, and he wanted to see just how the crammed the sidewalks were. To his relief, it looks manageable, which meant his usual haunts, wouldn't be crammed just yet.

"Is it harder to edit stuff from other people or write your own material?" Armie asked.

Chris didn't answer right away. It was too complicated to answer straight out. "It's different," he said. "But these people are counting on me to tell their story and that's pressure I'm not used to."

"Don't try too hard, you're not getting paid for this," Armie joked. All the money from book sales was going straight to the foundation, which would hopefully use it to support literacy initiatives throughout California.

"Don't say that," Chris said. "Your mom will hear it. Somehow."

Chris stopped to look at a particular house, a low fence covered in ivy and blooming morning glory around its postage stamp-sized lawn. The house behind it seemed to be in good shape, but it was the colors that drew Chris in. Instead of the usual magenta bougainvillea, the trumpet-shaped vines of morning glory were blue and white. The deep ivy behind them seemed to intensify the color and the graying house behind it all looked quaint and welcoming. 

"Cape Cod," Armie said. "Or Gray Gardens, depends on how you look at it."

"It's not that bad," Chris said. He kept walking, thinking about how many times they'd walked past it without noticing.

"We should get some food before we head to the airport," Armie suggested. "We're probably in for a full schedule."

Another few blocks and Chris and Armie found themselves at one of their usual restaurants, eating salads on the patio. There was no way to predict the L.A. traffic -- something Brian had mentioned in his efforts to get Chris to date him -- so there was a sense of urgency as they ate their Ahi tuna and harissa chicken. Armie ate from Chris' salad almost as often as he did from his own plate, eliciting a grin and chuckle from Chris and a few sideways glances from the other diners.

"Armie, take a breath," Chris said.

The blue eyes he knew so well, had stared into over and over, wrinkled at the corners as Armie sat back. "All I had this morning was a protein shake."

"You didn't eat any of cheese cubes at the supermarket?"

"Those don't count." 

Chris smiled and leaned over to kiss him, giving everyone at the restaurant something to really look at.

"This is your room," Chris said, letting Ramona enter the guest room before he stepped in behind her. "There's another one closer to our room, but we figured you'd want the one with the bathroom attached."

"Thank you," she said perkily. After picking her up from the airport, they went straight to get frozen yogurt and then made the trek back home. "This is great." 

Ramona was in L.A. for a science camp and probably to get a taste of what it would be like to get away from her parents. Jake was still in New York, so it was either going to be a situation that involved Maggie and Peter putting their lives on hold and living in the old Gyllenhaal family house for a week or having Ramona stay with the Hammers. With the decision on her shoulders, Ramona decided that being a block from the Pacific would be the smarter choice.

"You can unpack, there are hangers in the closet for you, everything you need should be in the bathroom. Let us know if we forgot anything."

"I'm more than happy to get junk food for you," Armie added. "Anything your parents won't let you have, I'll get it right away."

"I can drop you off at camp tomorrow morning," Chris said. "But we can work it out at dinner. I'm sure you're tired, you need to call your parents, and all of that."

"I sent them a text," Ramona said. "They know I'm here."

"You're 12," Armie said. "And you're texting?"

"Armie and I will be around. Let us know when you're hungry or if you need us to take you to get anything," Chris said, pushing Armie out of the guestroom. "Don't be afraid to interrupt anything."

"She's very mature," Armie said as soon as they got downstairs. "Space camp, cross-country flights all by herself, an iPhone."

"It's science camp," Chris corrected. "And she's my niece. She's our niece."

"I don't mind that she's here at all," Armie said. "She's just a very small adult. I thought she'd be a kid."

"You've met her parents," Chris said. "That should explain everything."

Armie shrugged. "Is it time to watch the final cuts from PBS?"

"I think we have to wait and see if she needs anything. I actually don't know what to do with a 12 year old."

"I'm pretty sure they're on their phones all the time and we just feed her and keep her from escaping into the wild."

"Very funny." 

"You're very cute when you're with her."

"Let's just try not to scar her for life."

Both of them were right. Ramona was preoccupied with her phone, but she did come downstairs to peek in to the refrigerator and take in the views of the canals. It was very different from Brooklyn, she insisted, and Chris knew right then that she'd make her way out here eventually. New York would have one more expat in a few short years. Armie showed her where he kept his secret stash of chocolate and Chris assured her that he knew it was there all along. She was inquisitive, asking questions at a breakneck pace, mostly involving the things that she'd heard Chris talk about repeatedly: whether or not he ate tacos every day, the fact he was friends with an Avenger, and if he really went to the beach as often as he said he did. Armie was fascinated with her curiosity and all the things that she clung to. Ramona didn't care that Chris was a bona fide "New York Times" bestselling author. She was too hung up on the fact that he believed he was a Ravenclaw -- she'd finished all the "Harry Potter" books -- and that he could dip his toes in the ocean every single day if he had 15 minutes to spare.

"You're very tall," she said to Armie as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're very observant."

"Do you want to get tacos tonight?" Chris asked. "We could ask Sebastian if he wants to come, but that might be too many things off your checklist at once. I don't want you to get bored after one day."

"He doesn't have long hair or a metal arm," Armie clarified. "But he is very loyal."

"Let me text him and we can figure dinner out," Chris said. 

Armie regretting not making more family-friendly films at that point, though he was still waiting for the perfect time to slip in a mention of his work on "Cars 3." Something told him that wouldn't really compare to meeting a superhero, though. He pushed the thoughts out of his head as quickly as they had come in. He didn't need to impress a pre-teen. Chris' hand on his arm brought him back out of his own brain. "She likes you. Don't try too hard," he whispered.

"Grab your jacket and we can start heading over to the boardwalk," Armie said.

"Sebastian is on his way," Chris said. "Be cool, okay? He's sort of a diva, but we still love him."

Ramona blushed, unable to contain her ear-to-ear smile. "You said he was nice!"

"He's very nice," Chris assured her. "I was kidding."

Chris wondered how old he was when something as simple as seeing the ocean and having authentic Mexican food could bring him genuine, unbridled joy. Ramona was smiling wider than Chris had ever seen, her eyes wide as they sat and watched the sun slowly dip into the ocean. She was practically attached to Sebastian, who was humoring her and answering every question she had about his Marvel movies, even going as far as FaceTiming with Scarlett Johansson. Chris couldn't compete with a real conversation with the Black Widow, so he satisfied himself with leaning against Armie's shoulder and digging his toes into the cool sand. 

"She's going to be a handful," Armie whispered, his lips grazing Chris' ear. "No, she's already a handful. She adores you."

"She'll adore you, too," Chris said. "By the end of the week, she'll look at you just like she looks at the Winter Soldier over there."

"Let's not go that far," Armie said. He wrapped one arm around Chris, pulling him even closer. "Have you ever thought about it?"

"Don't want any," Chris said. "I'll spend my whole life spoiling this one and her sister. We've talked about this before."

"I'm not pushing," Armie clarified. "Just keeping the conversation open. You know where I stand."

Ramona glanced over her shoulder and turned back to Sebastian. "No, they're not kissing," she said.

"Hey, we could be," Armie said. "The romance isn't dead."

"The romance should die down a little," Sebastian said. "You kiss too much, if you ask me."

Ramona came over and practically fell into Chris' lap, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching horizon again from her new perch. "We did this before. I remember," she said.

"Yeah, we've come to the beach a few times together," Chris said.

"You always liked watching the sun go down," Ramona added. "We did it with Uncle Jake."

"Lots of people do it," Armie said. "Look at all the people around us."

"Ramona," Chris said, smoothing down her hair, "that was a long time ago. Things are different."

"I liked it better when you two were kissing," Ramona said. 

"Your uncle...we, your uncle and I, I mean, were too stubborn to talk about what we needed to and we don't kiss anymore. I kiss Armie now. He's not so bad."

"I'm great," Armie said. "He wouldn't kiss me if I wasn't."

"Mom and dad told me," Ramona said. "I understand."

"I appreciate that," Armie said. 

"You can come stay with me if you get sick of them," Sebastian said. "I'll get you all the taquitos you can eat."

Armie stretched, the satisfying crack of his back and elbows bouncing around the living room. Chris appeared a second after Armie settled into the couch and flopped down beside him. "She's exhausted," Chris said. "I'm exhausted."

Armie kissed Chris' temple. The week had gone by at warp speed. Trips to the planetarium, time in the actual labs at UCLA, and visits to the museum were punctuated with watching nature documentaries at home and one impromptu trip to Universal Studios' Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Ramona loved every minute, whether she was learning or she was waving her fake wand around. Chris and Armie split the responsibilities, driving her from one place to the next, indulging her with frozen yogurt, and making sure that Maggie and Peter weren't too worried from 3,000 miles away. She became a regular fixture at the bocce ball courts by the beach, bringing a smile to the older gentlemen that played every evening. She knew the quickest route to the boardwalk, learned which taco fillings she liked best, and got plenty of time with her ex-uncle and whatever she'd decide to call Armie.

"She likes me now," Armie said, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

"You're easy to like." Chris was half burrowed into Armie's chest by now, his eyes closed as he felt the steady thump of Armie's heartbeat. His hand slid up under Armie's T-shirt, rubbing warm skin.

"These are your favorite, right?" Brian asked, handing Chris a bouquet of blush-pink peonies. Chris had just arrived in D.C. when he spotted someone holding a sign with his name one. "Christopher Hammer," it read in plain black type. Brian sent a driver, even though Chris had only emailed him asking for a few names to help with the episode. That simple message snowballed into appointments with the Secretary of Education, the Librarian of Congress, and even the head of the U.S. Association of Libraries. It would be great for the show, but knowing that these people were very important, very powerful, and even somewhat controversial, he was nervous.

"They are," Chris said. "Thank you."

"I'll have them sent to your hotel with your luggage. You need to be in the Capitol in 20 minutes if you're going to make your first appointment. The crew is already setting up."

"How did you make this happen so fast?"

"I know people at the National Endowment for the Arts," Brian said. "I'm not on the national level yet, but I'm working on it."

"That's exciting," Chris said, rummaging through his carry-on. A plain black cashmere sweater would have to do. It would look fine on TV, he knew that much.

"I read that you got married."

"He's in Quebec filming right now," Chris said. "But Armie's been involved with all the episodes we filmed back in California."

"Does he know about us?"

"I don't really talk about any of my exes," Chris said. "I think it's a good habit." He shrugged off his grey hoodie and pulled on the sweater. He didn't look professional, but it was definitely more polished than his cross-country flight attire.

"Okay, let's get going," Brian said, handing Chris a security lanyard. "Do you need to bring anything?"

Chris was already reaching for his notebook and his pen. "I read that you were dating a hipster with a man bun," he said, straightening his sweater now that he had everything in hand.

"It's not serious. Nothing like the connection we had."

"I've got too much baggage to be a politician's husband," Chris said. "You're better off without me."

"That's not how I see it," Brian said. Chris followed behind him as they walked, Brian looking every bit the politician in a full suit, tiny American flag lapel pin, and polished shoes. Chris wondered how much sway he had here in D.C., but didn't question anything. Thanks to Brian, the show would get big name policymakers in addition to small-town teachers. Chris had promised PBS some Washington heavyweights, even though he didn't know how he'd go about doing it. "This is where we met, remember?"

"Yes," Chris said automatically. He didn't know if it was the truth, but it seemed like the polite thing to say. He looked around the hallway that attached the Cannon House Office Building -- they'd been using an extra room in U.S. Representative Dwight Evans' office -- and couldn't quite remember anything specific. He'd walked this hall so many times before that it all blurred together. A rare set of circumstances meant that the secretary of education was taking appointments in the Capitol today and Chris was jumping in on that opportunity. PBS opened a few doors and Brian's efforts made even more swing wide open.

"I'll be right outside the door," Brian said as they approached a nondescript-looking office. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Thank you for all your help," Chris said. "I really mean that."

"Just let me get a photo with you so my constituents think I'm cool," Brian said, pulling out his phone. Chris gave a big smile and Brian snapped a selfie. "And let me treat you to dinner."

"No," Chris said quickly. "That's taxpayer money. I'll pay for dinner. It's honestly the least I could do."

"I won't argue with that," Brian said. "I'll have one of the interns book us a table at Charlie Palmer."

An few hours later, Chris was back at the hotel, changing into something a little more presentable. Brian's peonies, with their big mop-head blooms and shaggy leaves, were sitting in a tall vase. Chris had already called Armie, who was so exhausted Chris was sure that his excitement was completely feigned. Chris let his producer know that there was plenty of great footage coming her way and even had a chance to take a quick sunset walk down the Capitol Mall. No matter how many times he'd seen it before, the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial always left him speechless. He ran his fingers through his hair one more time and headed to the restaurant. It was just a few blocks from his hotel, but he took his time. During past visits, he'd rushed through everything. This time, he wouldn't make that mistake again.

"There are bats flying around," Chris said as he hugged Brian. He'd changed, too. The suit was gone. Instead, he was wearing a deep purple sweater and dark blue jeans. 

"They'll leave you alone," Brian said. "And you look better than ever. Married life suits you."

"No complaints," Chris said. "I don't know why I fought it. Divorce really messes you up."

"You're lucky that the press glosses over everything that happened before Armie Hammer."

"Lucky for you, too," Chris said just as they were being escorted to their table. "They write a lot of awful things about me. Me and the people I'm seen with."

"It's pretty quiet on that front in Philly," Brian said. Before he could finish that thought, the waiter came over, ready for their drink orders: "Two waters: one still, one sparkling. Bourbon, neat."

"Your newfound interest in activism is commendable," Brian added. "Just knowing that you're trying to make the world a better place actually makes it a better place."

"It's not new. I'm just doing more. I have the resources now."

"That's great," Brian said. "I'll do anything I can to help. Don't ever hesitate to reach out. You're doing good work."

Chris took a sip of his sparkling water. "Things are good for you, too. I've been keeping up."

"I'm humbled," Brian said. Chris swore he could see him blush. "A big glitzy Hollywood writer like you keeping up with local Philadelphia politics would certainly be something."

"I know how to use Google alerts, Representative Sims."

"Can you teach me?" Brian joked. "I'd like to get some alerts, too."

Chris ignored his comments. The last thing he needed was for Brian to get a notification any time he did anything worthy of a headline. "Are you getting a steak tonight?"

"And a dessert, since you're picking up the check. Maybe an appetizer?"

"Do your worst," Chris said. "Hollywood writing comes with a few perks."

"Hey, hey. Did you fall asleep?" Armie asked, shaking Chris' shoulder.

"I think I just zoned out," Chris said, rubbing his eyes. "I've been watching too much of myself." He got up off the couch and stretched. "Between Ramona and the edits, my brain hurts."

"C'mon," Armie said, pulling Chris back down into his arms and kissing his forehead. "I'll make it better."

Nick shook at Armie's shoulder. "Hey, are you still with me?"

"I don't want to be," Armie said. "She doesn't love me. Probably never did. I'm going to be a divorcee. It's so cliche."

"All this beer was supposed to make you forget about that."

"Nice try," Armie said. The two of them were at the pool, getting more and more sunburned as Armie wallowed for the second weekend in a row. He'd missed two auditions. He ignored phone calls, emails, and text messages. Nick was the only person who'd seen him since Elizabeth left all those week ago. The house was quiet, half-empty and a definite weight was pushing down on both Nick and Armie. "People" magazine described the divorce as amicable. It wasn't. Neither one of them was happy, but no matter how hard they tried, whether it was therapy and counseling or just talking to each other, things weren't clicking anymore. Elizabeth wondered why Armie's big break just wasn't coming. He wondered why she seemed to have a dozen very expensive hobbies and no actual passions. It had been more than a year since they told each other that they could make it work. It was more than a year that Armie felt trapped.

"We all saw it coming. Hate to say it."

"You love saying it. You and Viktor."

"I thought you were doing better. What happened?"

"She called. She wanted the pink slip to her car and it wasn't at the lawyers. It was here. I never want to see her again. I don't want to talk to her. If it's done, it's done."

"Slow down."

"Fuck everything. I'll start over on Monday."

"It is Monday."

"Fuck Monday. I got passed up for two movies. I'm nobody to anyone."

Nick sighed. If Armie was going to seethe with self-pity, there was nothing he could do about it. Things had to ride out. This wasn't anything new, but it felt harder than ever before. Armie had gone through breakups, but the combination of Elizabeth finally making the separation and divorce a reality coupled with the rejection of not getting movie roles -- and no real prospects coming up -- was a lot to take. "Armie, get it together. You knew this was coming. You've been to the lawyers. You knew what was happening."

"Still sucks."

"Yeah, that's not a surprise."

"If you give me a 'chin up' motivational speech right now, I'll punch you."

"If you don't suck it up and get to this audition you have scheduled today, I'll punch you."

"I look like shit. I feel like shit. I'm not going to get any role."

"You've got nothing to lose, Armie."

Armie let out a long, loud sigh. A shower. Maybe a shave. He really did have nothing to lose. Feeling sorry for himself was getting old. He could use a change of scenery. Plus, doing one audition meant that he'd done something productive, which could buy him a few more days of doing absolutely nothing.

"You think you'll actually try this time?"

Armie looked around the yard, the glittering pool reflecting the sunlight, the grand house right behind him. None of this was going anywhere, whether he had ten movies in the works or zero. "I don't care. I don't even know what it is."

"If you can read, you can audition. Now please, get out of here."

"Sell a fucking house."

"Well, let's both be adults today. I'll see you tonight."

Armie grabbed his phone and scrolled through his email. He had more than an hour to get ready and drive to the Chateau Marmont. Ignoring more than 20 voicemails and dozens of other emails, he figured that this audition was something that piqued his interest a few weeks ago he heard about it. Maybe being mature wouldn't be so bad today. Pushing all his emotions aside for now, he walked past Nick back into the house. A shower would do him good. An audition would do him even better. If he got a callback, he thought, things would definitely be turning around.

He practiced his monologue during the drive, trying to remember exactly what he was auditioning for. Was it a brooding leading man? Was this a romantic comedy? Were studios still making those? He had a passage from "Franny and Zooey" memorized just in case, but maybe this was a Shakespeare situation. Nick could have given him a clue as to exactly what he was in for, but it wasn't like he'd have listened. 

Nick had warned him about Elizabeth and he ignored all of that outright. Nick, who he'd known longer than just about anyone else in his life; Nick, who knew him better than himself, probably; Nick, who obviously wanted Armie to be happy and successful, didn't get any credit. Armie swore that if this audition went well, he'd buy Nick the most expensive bottle of scotch he could find. But he had to get through it, first. He hadn't been focused during the last two, so it wasn't a surprise that he never got a callback. But this time, he'd try. This time, he'd focus -- the best he could, given the circumstances at hand -- and if he got a callback, he'd call it a victory. Right now, landing a role wasn't the endgame, especially since nobody in the industry seemed to care about him. Right now, he just needed to get back in the routine. 

Chateau Marmont wasn't an unusual place to hold auditions. It was where smaller projects usually got off the ground and, if actors were lucky, where big ones started when producers and directors wanted to stay under the radar. It was easier, almost enjoyable, to audition at a hotel and not at a studio. If anything, it was easier to get a drink after. He made his way through the lobby, checking his phone to remind himself of where he was going. One stop in a mirror to make sure he looked better than he felt and he was ready. Deep breath. "Franny and Zooey." 

A gentle knock on the door was all it took for it to open. There was a standard setup inside the suite, with a group of people on the sofa and a few more milling around. "Armie Hammer," he said. 

"Great, they're ready for you," the young PA said, checking Armie's name off of her iPad. "They're through that door." She motioned to what looked like a bedroom, but Armie was sure it would be emptied of any actual furniture. One last deep breath. He stepped inside, a wide smile on his face and nearly stopped mid-stride. This was a big deal. He recognized a few of the faces. One in particular deserved a second look. He went right over, thankful that the handsome one was sitting on the end of the table. 

"Armie Hammer, nice to meet you."

"Christopher Lewis. Thank you for your time. We're ready when you are."


	26. Chapter 26

Trigger warning: themes of anxiety and depression.

"God, I love you so much," Armie said, breathless. He pressed his forehead to Chris' heaving chest, eyes closed.

Chris' fingers were in Armie's hair, his hole still clamping down on Armie's cock as they both settled back down to reality in the wake of their orgasms. "You're still inside me, no need for sentiment," Chris said softly, his head lolling back as he steadied himself on Armie's lap. He felt hands all over him, his own settling down on Armie's broad shoulders. When his eyes opened up fully, he saw Armie's half-smile, his bright blues still half-lidded.

"I love you, too," Chris added, giving Armie's shoulders a gentle squeeze.

Armie's hands settled on Chris' lower back and he did his best to keep the inevitable from happening. As much as he wanted to stay like this forever, they'd have to eventually separate. Armie planted one last kiss on Chris' chest, right over his heart, before he felt Chris come off of him. A kiss on the lips, slow and lingering, was all he got before Chris climbed off him fully and settled in beside him, their bodies coming together in a practiced formation, a familiar tangle of sweat-slick limbs. Chris was content to close his eyes for a few minutes while Armie stroked his back, his eyes focused on the sailboats and the marina outside the window. They'd taken a boat out to Catalina Island, a private celebration. 

"They filmed 'The 10 Commandments' out here," Chris said, not even bothering to move. His face was still nestled against Armie's chest. "There are sphinxes buried out on the island somewhere."

Armie chuckled. "It's almost dinnertime, I don't think the sphinx tours will be happening today."

"Just throwing it out there," Chris said. He felt Armie pull him even closer. Armie was familiar with the history. He'd read all about it on the ferry ride over. It was an escape just an hour away, but Armie had never even thought about going over there. When they arrived, Armie found himself in a different kind of sleepy seaside town. Chris said it was way more laid-back than Santa Barbara, but Armie couldn't even imagine that. How much sleepier could a place be when Santa Barbara restaurants' opening and closing hours seemed to be simple suggestions and people kept their front doors unlocked all the time? 

He found out when they arrived and saw that the main mode of transport on the island was golf cart. Bikers crisscrossed the island, too, but Chris just held onto Armie's hand as they walked down the boardwalk. He was far from being a local, but Chris seemed at home and Armie was more than happy to let him lead the way. They'd taken a Jeep to the west side of the island and hiked up to Ballast Point, giving them 360-degree views of the ocean. If they weren't already married, Armie thought, he'd have proposed right there. He settled for a kiss, Chris up on his tiptoes as the ocean air swept around them and the warm sun warmed their skin.

"I thought we'd see them from the hike," Chris said. "Maybe they're a myth."

Armie kissed his forehead. "Get dressed. We should eat."

"How does it feel to be a documentarian?" Armie asked, his hand rubbing Chris' leg under the table. They'd walked to a steakhouse Armie saw, but got distracted by a seafood shack. Armie was sipping on a beer with a lime wedge shoved into it before they even sat down.

"I could ask you the same thing," Chris said. 

"Feels pretty good, won't lie."

The show had completed its 12-episode run. Armie bookended the series with appearances in the first and last episodes and Chris was soaking up the success. Teachers applauded his efforts. Local politicians reached out to commend him. It felt great to reach a whole new group of people, to help them tell their own stories. And when the last episode aired and the book was made available, its first printing sold out. It wouldn't win any awards, but the stories inside were ones that needed to be told. Chris was couldn't be happier. Not only was helping bring awareness to literacy, the book raised money enough money for the Hammer Foundation to make a huge donation to libraries and schools across the state of California. Teachers told him that their school districts couldn't even afford copy paper. He hoped that the donation would keep them from spending their own money on things like Kleenex and cleaning supplies.

"I can't tell you how proud I am," Armie said. "You told me you didn't even like public speaking and you basically put this whole thing together from start to finish and were in front of the camera the whole time."

"I was nervous," Chris said as he read over the menu. Armie had already ordered a bevy of deep-fried appetizers. "I won't lie about that. But talking to normal people isn't as hard as talking to Hollywood people."

"Those are people, too," Armie said.

"You're not all bad," Chris said, leaning closer to his husband.

"I can't speak for all Hollywood assholes, but I can say that you picked a good one."

Chris wondered how many times they'd done this before. The same Pacific Ocean view, the same deep-fried calamari and clam strips. Armie's Corona with lime. Their legs touching and Armie absent-mindedly running his thumb over Chris' knuckles under the table. It was so familiar and comforting that it could have been anywhere: Malibu, Venice, Catalina, Washington, Santa Barbara, San Francisco. It felt that way because it had happened before in all of those places and, hopefully, it would keep happening. He leaned over to give Armie a quick kiss on the cheek. "I love you. I love this."

"Yeah, it's cute out here. I couldn't live here, but maybe when we're 80, I'll think about it. I grew up on an island, I don't know if I could do that again."

"Slow down, we're not moving to an island," Chris said. "Imagine having a ferry commute. As if we weren't late enough to everything as it is."

"Don't be so distracting when you're getting ready," Armie said, his hand clasping at Chris' tighter. 

"Oh my God, there are dolphins outside," Chris said, bounding out of his chair. He practically sprinted over to the windows, where there was a pod of dolphins in the distance, swimming just outside of the harbor. Armie leaned back in his chair, letting the image of Chris, backlit by the sun and a huge smile on his face, sink in. If there was something he'd remember forever, it wouldn't be that audition at the Chateau, it wouldn't be their impromptu wedding, it would be moments like this. "Armie, look! They're really there."

Armie sauntered to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over the horizon. Chris leaned into him and Armie pulled him close. Dolphins or not, it was unforgettable.

Chris straightened up his bedside table, which had nothing more than a lamp and stray charging wires on it, before padding over to Armie's side. He dusted off a framed photo of the two of them, picked up an empty water glass to take downstairs, and tucked a few things into the drawer. He headed downstairs, the house silent except for the steady staccato thump thumping of Armie's jump rope hitting the concrete of the patio. Chris slipped the glass into the dishwasher and leaned against the counter, watching Armie jump in the early morning sun.

The last few days had been quiet, with the two of them sequestering themselves at home, trying to catch up on everything that they'd ignored, housework included. As Chris straightened up the counter, he noticed Sebastian walking down the canal towards the house. Armie seemed oblivious, but when Sebastian let himself through the waist-high gate, the rhythmic sound of the rope finally stopped. Chris noticed that his hair, which was buzzed short just a few weeks ago when Ramona had still been here, had grown out already. He was wearing his gym clothes. Chris watched as they looked at something on Sebastian's phone and then glanced inside, both of their eyes locking on Chris'. They both looked surprised at first, but big smiles spread across their faces.

"What are you guys talking about?" Chris asked as he slid open the back doors.

"That three-way you're always dreaming about," Armie joked. "No, don't even think about that. I can't make that promise."

"Hey," Sebastian said. "Don't I have a say in that?"

"The foundation doubled its donation, because the show was so popular," Armie said. "My mom didn't tell us, she just went and told 'People' magazine. It got us onto the cover."

Chris reached for Sebastian's phone and saw a photo of himself and Armie together during a promotional event for PBS. "How come Deb and David didn't say anything? Isn't that their job?"

"It was probably a PBS thing," Armie guessed.

"Or your mom," Chris said. He shrugged it off, because it was true: there was really no such thing as bad publicity, especially if the tabloids were in rare form and being complimentary for a change.

"It doesn't matter," Sebastian said. "Makes you both look fantastic."

"Setting A Foundation: How Giving Got Cool," Chris said, reading the headline aloud. "Can't complain about that. I guess we need to go to the bookstore to grab a copy today."

Armie wrapped an arm around Chris' shoulder. "I'll call my mom," he said before kissing Chris' temple. "Don't make out with Sebby unless I'm there to watch."

"He thinks he's hilarious," Chris said as soon as Armie turned his back. "Sit down, Sebs, I'll get you something to drink."

"I heard that," Armie said, as he headed upstairs. "I am hilarious."

Chris handed a bottle of water to Sebastian, who'd taken a seat at the kitchen island. He looked energized, Chris noticed, his eyes sparkling and his skin tanner than it had ever been. Sebastian noticed the same about Chris, only he knew that it came from that weekend getaway to Catalina.

"I've missed you," Chris said. "It's tough when you're working and I had to be all over the place for filming."

"And getting your name chiseled onto museum lobbies," Sebastian added.

"There wasn't a formal ceremony for that," Chris said.

"Did the Hammers have his ex killed or exiled? I wouldn't put it past them. Scrubbing her from the museum is harsh."

"She's not on the board anymore," Chris said matter-of-factly. "Not to pump myself up, but I raised a lot of money to get my mother-in-law's approval and my name on that goddamn wall."

"I didn't think you could buy love," Sebastian said. "But you managed to do it."

"It wasn't cheap," Chris said. 

Armie came back into the kitchen, slid his hand around Chris' waist and kissed his cheek. "Let's go get a copy."

None of them bothered to change out of their gym clothes. The usually quick walk to Abbot Kinney seemed slower, their pace easier and more relaxed with Sebastian catching Chris and Armie up on what he'd been doing while the two of them had been away. Chris ducked into their usual coffee spot to grab three iced coffees while Armie picked up three croissants from a bakery just a few doors down. Reconvening in front of the only convenience store on the whole drag, Chris and Sebastian stayed outside while Armie got the magazine in question.

"You think it's hilarious to send me in to buy a magazine with my own face on it, don't you?"

"The clerk is always so stoned he probably didn't even notice," Chris said, dusting a few crumbs off his shirt. He grabbed the magazine and flipped through it, looking for the spread.

"Looks good," Sebastian said, peeking over Chris' shoulder. The magazine used promo photos from PBS, which were all technically approved by David and Deb, but it definitely looked generic, since anyone who'd seen the first few episodes of the show would recognize them. "Why are you guys touching in every single picture? Does Armie ever not have his arm around you?"

"It's not terrible," Chris said. "The article's pretty bland."

"It's 'People,' Chris, not 'Vanity Fair,'" Armie said, taking the issue from Chris. He looked closer and skimmed the story for himself. "It's fine. Nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worried for me. I was thinking that your mom would think it was tawdry," Chris said. "I don't want to dilute the show and foundation with fluff."

Armie's brow furrowed. "What my mom thinks is none of our business...when it comes to this, at least. Anyone else would be celebrating a cover. Here you are, freaking out about what my mom thinks?"

"Armie, she funded the whole thing. You have to understand that part."

"You have to understand that the money that your play made, the play you and I worked really hard on, is what really paid for it."

"I get that," Chris said. "I'm not trying to say that the play wasn't a huge deal. It was. It was very important. I'm also saying that we couldn't have done that PBS show on our own. They're scraping things together as it is. And we helped a lot of people, so the last thing I want to do is piss off the person in charge of deciding where that money went."

He had a point, Armie thought. "Okay. Fine. Let's keep it rolling."

Another quick walk and the three of them were eating falafel wraps, the sun shining down harder now. The patio set them back from the street traffic, but Chris felt a few eyes fall onto Armie. When you were on the cover of "People," it came with some attention, only Chris wasn't strapping and attention-grabbing the way his husband was, which kept the attention off of him.

"I was cropped out of one of those pictures," Sebastian said.

"Ouch," Chris said, leafing back through the magazine. There was a shot of Chris and Armie walking side-by-side along Abbot Kinney, which is where they actually were at the moment, and just like Sebastian pointed out, his hand and foot were the only things in the frame. "But let's remember that you were on the cover of 'Entertainment Weekly.'"

"You can't have it all," Armie said.

"How funny was that picture of you dropping the puck at the Kings game? Have you ever even watched hockey?"

"All of those things were just for the photos," Chris said. "It was super awkward. I was flipping coins at every sporting event for a month."

"But getting a bestselling book out of it isn't so bad."

"No, not at all," Chris said. "If I have to be a ham, I'll do it. It's for the kids."

"You looked really official in D.C.," Sebastian added.

"Sometimes, I can take care of business," Chris said. "If real change is going to happen, though, it's not going to be there. It has to start at home and at school."

"Do you say that in the show?" Sebastian asked.

"Only a few hundred times," Armie said, holding Chris' hand.

"When are you taking a break? We need to get back on our morning runs," Sebastian said.

"Soon," Chris said. He looked over at Armie, "Unless you're not telling me something."

"Nope," Armie said. "We're both free agents until I leave for Vancouver next month. Then, it's three or four weeks where you two can do whatever you want without me tying you down."

"The Audiard project?"

"Do you actually read 'Variety' for fun?" Chris asked.

Sebastian ignored him. "He just worked with Jake."

"Chris isn't the only one that gets around, then."

Chris rolled his eyes. He didn't even bother acknowledging it.

"Are you going to be up there the whole time? Abandon me here?" Sebastian asked.

"It's either abandon you or abandon Armie, so I guess I have to split my time," Chris said. "No. I'm going to go back and forth because I know better than to hang around a set and I have to workshop my new book with David. I'll be here or Santa Barbara."

"You guys are away more often than you're at home," Sebastian said. "What was the point of getting that huge house if you're not home to appreciate it?"

"Not for the investment, that's for sure," Chris said. "Features in 'AD' definitely don't pay the mortgage. Books and movies do. So, we have to write books and make movies."

Sebastian was asleep on the couch, the Travel Channel still playing on the TV, as Chris typed in his office. Armie, who couldn't ever sit still, was alternating between going through a pile of actual mail, checking his email, and pacing up and down the stairs to figure out where to move a potted palm tree now that its fronds were getting a little out of control. 

"Can you stop pacing, please?" Chris said from the office. Armie froze in place. "Can we work out that dinner with your mom and finalize your schedule in Vancouver so I can book my flights?"

"Right away," Armie said with mock enthusiasm. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Don't be a jerk about it," Chris said. "You're bored. I gave you something to do. If you don't want to, come in and sit with me."

Armie chose the latter, because the menial tasks could wait. He'd get to them later. He came in, leaned against the frame of the door, and watched Chris at his computer for just a few seconds. "You beckoned?"

"Your mom is driving me crazy. I can't even string two thoughts together without her texting me," Chris said, his nerves shot.

"I'd pour you a drink, but, you know."

"Feel free," Chris said. Armie turned around and served himself two fingers of scotch from a crystal decanter Chris kept on a bookshelf. For Chris, it was all for looks. For Armie, it was sweet, sweet salvation when the mention of his mom came up.

Chris shut his laptop before coming around the desk and wrapping his arms around Armie's waist. He still smelled sun-kissed, the scent of sweat barely detectable when Chris buried his face into Armie's neck. "Didn't expect this," Armie said softly.

Kisses on his lips, soft flicks of Chris' tongue against his, Armie didn't expect those either. Chris' lips traced a slow, languid line along Armie's stubbled jaw and down his throat. Armie felt Chris' hands under his shirt, tracing along his sides to pull it up and off. Chris got down on his knees, nuzzling his face against Armie's taut stomach, the dusting of hair glistening in the warm afternoon light. Chris' fingertips curled around the waistband of Armie's shorts, pulling them down quickly and catching the head of Armie's cock before it even got a chance to bounce up against his abs. Armie groaned, the sound low in his chest, and gripped Chris' hair.

He felt it all the way down to his toes. The way Chris' lips and tongue traced along his shaft, the warmth and slick slip, the way Chris' hands ran up and down his calf. Armie looked down, his eyes catching Chris', who looked up at him with a combination of adoration and admiration as he gulped down every last inch. Chris held Armie down deep as long as he could, which was nothing more than a few moments, but Armie felt time stop, his fingers gripping Chris' head, his hips moving just the tiniest bit to push just that much deeper. It was intoxicating in a different way than the scotch that he sipped earlier, the heat spreading through him coming from a completely different place.

Armie groaned and bit down on his lip, his head thrown back as Chris bobbed, building a steady pace as he slid Armie's cock over his tongue. He let his hips move, thrusting in and out of Chris' mouth as the wet sound of slurping and sucking seemed to echo through Armie's ears. Chris groaned around Armie's length and came off to catch his breath, stroking the leaking dick as he lapped at Armie's balls. Grunting, Armie shoved his dick back between Chris' lips, craving the slick heat. He fucked in quicker, ignoring the soft grunts and the occasional gagging noise. Sebastian was downstairs, this wasn't the time for a drawn-out blowjob. Armie tried to grab at Chris' hair, cursing the fact that he'd cut off his slick-back hairstyle and replaced it with a messy crew cut. Armie held Chris down, feeling his throat squeeze his dick, and fucked in quickly, shoving every inch in and out of Chris' mouth. Armie was getting louder, his breathing getting quicker as he sped up. Chris was gripping his hips now, doing his best to just hold on as Armie sped towards his orgasm. 

"Fuck, Chris," Armie said through gritted teeth. He shot hard, his body shaking as he came undone, Chris' mouth flooding with his load. Armie's eyes were shut tight and his knuckles were white as he held onto Chris' head. He felt Chris whimper around him before slowly sliding off. His lips were puffy and red, his own body breathless as he looked up at Armie towering over him. He gave Armie's slit one last lick, sending a shiver up Armie's spine, before offering a few more soft strokes. Armie fell to his knees a second later, kissing Chris deeply, their tongues sliding together and Armie's arms wrapping around Chris. A soft chuckle from Armie broke the afterglow, but Chris pulled him into the crook of his neck before any clever remark could come out. Armie always did talk too much.

"Have you been here before?" Dru asked.

"No, I don't really hang out in Beverly Hills that often."

"I know you and Armie like those hip restaurants with Mason jar water glasses, but sometimes, it's okay to order a cobb salad and have pinot grigio before 5. There's no shame in it."

"No shame at all," Chris said. "I just stick to what I'm used to."

"Everyone is so proud of you," Dru said. "That show was phenomenal from start to finish. There was so much to love and everyone I've talked to has had nothing but good things to say."

"It was a great experience," Chris said. "Thank you so much for making that happen. I honestly can't thank you enough."

"Are you flying to Vancouver tomorrow?"

"Tonight."

"I don't know how you two manage the travel," Dru said. "It's such a pain now. I remember when airlines treated us like customers and not freight."

Cobb salads arrived. So did a bottle of sparkling water, because Chris couldn't ever pass up bubbles. This far into the relationship, through an impromptu wedding and everything after, Chris had never had lunch alone with his new mother-in-law. Armie was always there, but this time, she insisted. Armie was away, after all, and there was no changing that. Chris was free, because even though he was working on his next novel, not having to go into an office from 9 to 5 meant he had all the free time in the world.

"Armie wants me up there for his days off. It makes the most sense," Chris said. "I'm used to it. I've been doing it long enough."

"We do what we can for love," Dru said.

Chris didn't know how to react. Months ago, this woman wanted nothing to do with him. Now, she was doting, almost friendly, and maybe even adoring. He wouldn't call it love, but it was inching closer. He had his guard up, because the last time he let this happen, the last time he let himself feel included in a brand-new family, it almost got taken away. Chris knew he'd never forget the way it felt, like someone had reached into his ribcage and squeezed his lungs and heart. He was getting anxious just thinking about it. But Maggie and Peter, the girls, they were still in his life--just a phone call away. It wasn't the same as before, but it was something. There wasn't a reason not to let Dru in, too, except for the uncomfortable tension that buzzed through the air whenever she was around Chris and Armie together.

"I could be with him every minute of every day and it still wouldn't be enough," Chris said, his voice even and his words measured. "If I could keep him from goofing off or distracting me, I'd spend the entire time up there, but we both know that I can get my runaway brain together better when I'm by myself. It's just how we work. And it really works. The show, the play, the book, my other book, it's all there. We work together really, really well."

"I can see that," Dru said. "It's wonderful. It's more than I could ever have imagined. I thought he and Elizabeth were great, but it's nothing like this."

"Do you still talk to Liz?"

"Of course, there's no reason she has to be a social pariah. She's doing well in Dallas. She was always a Southern girl. She's not in Armie's business anymore, she has her own life. We should all be happy for her."

Again, Chris couldn't tell if what she was saying was sincere. He tried his best to maintain his composure, but the weight of his anxiety was looming. He couldn't read his own mother-in-law, which he shouldn't have to in the first place. Armie had often painted her like a wicked stepmother. She was fine through his first marriage, supported it through all the turmoil, but Armie felt a shift as soon as he and Chris got serious. 

Chris realized that it was about him, not Armie or Liz. He didn't have the pedigree, the perfect "Town & Country" upbringing. He wasn't involved in the right charities, didn't know the right people, never got snapped for the right magazines and never attended the right kind of events. He was on a different level and as far as Dru was concerned, there was no upward momentum. He didn't know if it was even worth trying.

"Dru," Chris said, the words coming out even though his body felt numb. "Armie's so happy. The stuff he's getting to do, it's incredible."

The Gyllenhaals had welcomed him in with open arms. They still did. Every minute he spent with them felt completely different than what he felt right now. This was unpleasant at best and something akin to a job interview at worst. He wanted to leave. He should never have agreed to it, but he was riding high when he said yes. Now, he was crestfallen. 

He looked around, regretting everything. The valet made it so he couldn't get away quick enough. The restaurant was crowded, so he couldn't just leave. He looked down at his salad, which he'd hardly even touched. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "This salad is great," he said, feigning a smile. "Tastes so fresh." The words were bitter in his mouth.

Dru smiled, "We should come back with Armie. He'd like it."

"Definitely," Chris said. "I'll tell him about it this weekend, we'll get something on the books." He took a sip of his water, hoping that Dru didn't notice how shaky his hand was. Lunch couldn't be over fast enough.

Chris canceled the flight. He was too deep into his ideas to take a break, he told Armie. He'd just drive up to Santa Barbara and get it all out of his system. Next weekend, he'd be there for sure. But the truth was, he couldn't even muster up enough energy to pack. He barely remembered to check the fridge and take out the garbage before heading up to the cottage. 405 to the 101. He'd done it a hundred times -- no thinking necessary. He took a long breath as soon as he stepped through the threshold. He opened all the windows and flopped on the couch, curling up with a throw blanket and wishing that he could just disappear.

His phone rang, but he ignored it. It was Armie, he could tell that without even looking. He'd understand if Chris just needed a few hours to himself. When the call kept coming, he sent a message: "I'll get back to you. Hold on."

Chris woke up when the thin throw couldn't keep the chill away. He shivered, cursing the fact that even though it was idyllic during the day, the ocean breeze made nights chilly, even in the dog days of summer. He got up, shut all the windows, and curled up under the thicker blankets on the bed. Maybe if he ignored the world around him, things would be okay.

It was past 3 a.m. when he finally sent Armie another text message, apologizing for falling off the grid. He was fine, he lied, just scrambling to organize the gears in his head so that something amazing would come out. 

At 3:05, he was asleep again.

"Hey," Chris heard. "Time to get out of bed?" What day was it? What time?

"Seb?" Chris said, his voice cracking as he slowly sat up. Had he been crying? His eyes felt puffy. "How did you get in?"

"You scared the shit out of Armie. And me, too. You didn't even lock the front door. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Chris said. "Where am I? Everything looks so different."

"It's Sunday morning. When was the last time you ate something?"

"I had some Cheez-Its. White cheddar. They were good," Chris said, his voice quiet and his eyes focused on the ground. 

There was a pause. 

"I miss my family." His voice was barely audible. 

He cleared his throat. "Can you tell Armie I'm okay? I'm sure he's worried. I don't know where my phone is." Chris looked around and his eyes fell on the nightstand, where his phone sat on its charging dock. He looked back up at Sebastian and gave a weak shrug. "Oh, it's right there. I can do it." The tears came.

Sebastian wrapped an arm around Chris' shoulders. "I will. Let's get you in the shower. I'll make you some food."

A can of chicken noodle soup was all Sebastian could offer from the scant selection in the pantry. This was the first time he'd seen the house since the remodel and though it looked amazing, it was very, very different. He didn't know if Chris was just disoriented or if something more serious was happening, but he'd set out to do what Armie asked: take care of Chris. He'd get there as fast as he could.

"Do you want to get some air?" Sebastian asked as he watched Chris eat. "We can head to the beach."

"Did you tell Armie he doesn't need to come? I'm okay. I'm sorry for making everyone worry. I'm really sorry."

"He's going to do what he wants," Sebastian said. "You know that."

"I don't have a suit up here," Chris said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sebastian asked, his forehead furrowing. Things could be worse than he thought.

"The library, they're doing some sort of ceremony for me tonight. I forgot until I saw the letter in my bag. An actual letter. That's how things work up here. My schedule is so mixed up. I would have missed it if I went to see Armie." 

He ran his hands over his face. The hole in his heart, the Jake-shaped hole that he'd patched up with a taller, blonder, broader Armie, was fine now, but the lack of family was finally hitting him. Dru, whatever her motives were, would never be the support system he had with Naomi and Maggie. Viktor, as sweet as he was, wasn't anything like Peter. He was younger, for one, and who would take advice from a kid brother? All of it hit him so suddenly that he could barely breathe. He could feel the tears coming again.

"I'm sure you have something here that'll be okay," Sebastian said.

"I'm going to look like shit."

"We can go buy something on State Street," Sebastian assured him. "Finish your soup."

Chris did what he was told. Sebastian sent Armie a message: "He's not okay."

"It'll be fine," Sebastian said, rubbing Chris' back. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm here."

"David emailed me about it, I just forgot about it, I think."

"Don't worry about it, we'll get you anything you need. We'll get everything together before tonight. Armie's going to be here soon."

Chris stiffened at the mention of Armie's name. "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Don't say that. He needs to be here. He'd want to." Sebastian wrapped his arms around Chris' body, feeling his heart race and his body quake. "It'll be okay. I promise. Just breathe. I'm here."

It only took a few minutes for things to settle down. Sebastian sent Armie a few updates, telling him that there was definitely a problem and that he needed to bring some real food. Chris pulled himself together enough to wash his bowl and spoon, splash some water on his face, and straighten himself up. The world felt almost syrupy, like he was struggling to do the most mundane tasks. Everything felt like it required twice the energy, something he didn't have in high reserves. 

"Let's get some coffee," Sebastian suggested.

Chris didn't say anything. He just followed Sebastian out to his car. The caffeine helped. The fresh air may have, too. Chris still didn't want to admit that he was in the throes of a heavy anxiety attack, but he knew. It had been so long that he couldn't recall when it had ever been this bad. After Jake said things were done, maybe. Was it after that trip to London the first time? Armie called. He was almost there. "Can you do me a favor and not tell him what a total wreck I was? This isn't how it usually is."

"How what? What was happening?"

"I just felt really down. More than that, I guess. It was getting to be too much." Chris took a long, slow sip of his coffee. It was bracing, too hot, and something he needed to come back to the brightly lit world around him. The haze was starting to focus, the colors coming back to life, and his mind finally starting to settle down.

"Don't scare me like that," Sebastian said. "Just let me know and I'll do whatever you need me to."

"There's nothing you can do about it," Chris said. "But I appreciate it."

It was the combination of food, coffee, and getting out of the house. Things seemed almost normal when they arrived back at the house, Armie's car already in the driveway. Chris walked a little quicker towards the door, knowing that it'd open before he even reached it. 

He was right. "Come here," Armie said, worry painting his features as he pulled Chris against him. Chris couldn't hold back the tears. They came on strong, though Chris stayed silent as he soaked Armie's sweatshirt. "You scared the shit out of me." Armie felt the sobs shudder through Chris' body and held on tight.

Out in the backyard, the three of them sat together, Chris curled up as tight as he could against Armie while Sebastian sat in one of the Adirondack chairs across from them. "You can't let her get to you like that," Armie said.

"I tried everything I could. I thought she liked me. I don't know if she ever really will."

"You didn't marry her, you married me. We don't need to ever see her again. Not if she makes you feel like this."

"It's important to see your mom."

"I'll handle her," Armie said. His voice got quiet, "We can stay here. We can stay as long as you need."

Chris sighed. He felt powerless, not only over his anxiety, but because he didn't know what Armie would do. She was his mother, which only made things more complicated.

"Okay, so what's going on tonight? We have an actual event to go to?"

"They're dedicating a new room at the library. The Christopher Hammer Family Reading Room. It's nothing," Chris said.

"It is a big deal for you," Armie said. "So if you're up for it, we shouldn't bail on it."

Chris wasn't sure he was up for it. But for Armie and for himself, he'd try his best.

To call it an event would have been generous. With nothing more than the "Santa Barbara News-Press" in attendance and the five members of the board there to shake Chris and Armie's hands, it was over in less than 20 minutes. It was more of a photo opportunity than anything else, but like Armie said, it was important. Chris had spent so much time in the library growing up that something as simple as a little expansion was more important than any glitzy awards show. It took all his energy to stand and smile, when all he really wanted to do was get back into bed, to crawl under the blanket, and try not to think about everything that was happening. But he wasn't afforded that luxury. He grasped Armie's hand, drawing strength from somewhere deep inside, and soldiered on.

Inside, they took a few more snaps for the newspaper, posing on the leather couches. The room was lined with low bookshelves, every one filled with brand-new books, donated by the Hammer Foundation. There were beanbag chairs, big potted ferns, and even a chalkboard wall with a mural by a local artist. It was cute, cozy, and something Chris was proud to have his name on. 

Armie held his hand the entire time and Chris didn't know if it was he was just as proud or because of the anxiety episode that he'd just endured. After the reporter got what she needed, a few families arrived, ready to celebrate the opening with some punch and cookies provided by library volunteers. It was, Chris thought, like something straight out of the '50s and he couldn't help but feel something warm inside himself. He and Armie shook hands with the library board, snapped a few more photos for the Santa Barbara Public Library system, and found themselves taking the quick drive back to the cottage, a calm silence hovering between them.

"You didn't need a suit," Armie said as they walked up to the house.

"Yeah," Chris said, still feeling the aftershocks of his emotions. He and Armie were both wearing jeans.

As they approached the front door, Armie pulled Chris down to sit down on the steps, their eyes focusing on the evening sky through the jacaranda branches. "This is where we talk," Armie said. "It's hard for me to understand when you don't talk to me."

"I thought she really liked me, maybe even loved me," Chris said, resting his head on Armie's shoulder. "But I think she just tolerated me and that really hurt me. I thought I could deal with not having a mom, since I never really had one, but I got spoiled with Naomi. I wanted that again, I thought I could get it."

"I'm not going to apologize for my mom," Armie said. "But you shouldn't have lied to me. If you're overwhelmed, just let me know. You might not have a big family to lean on, but you'll always have me. I'm here so that you don't have to feel alone."

"I didn't know what was happening until after," Chris said, reaching out to hold onto Armie's hand. "Honestly, I didn't know what was going on."

Armie kissed Chris' temple, "Be strong for me. It's tough when we're apart. I miss you so much when I'm away."

Chris didn't say anything right away. "For a while, I thought all I needed was you. You're everything to me."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on one person, Chris. There's going to be time when you'll need other people. The good thing is, there are people who will be there for you."

"Not your mom."

"You don't need her validation," Armie continued. "And if you need a family, call Maggie. Call Peter. See them, do what you need to do. You're not alone. I love you and even Sebastian loves you. You've got so many people who love you and support you. You have to see that."

The crickets started to chirp and the orange in the sky was being painted over by blacks and violet. "I'm a mess. I thought I was past all of this."

"Don't beat yourself up. Come inside. We've got time to figure it out."

Sebastian was sprawled out on the couch with the TV tuned to Bravo. "You're back," he said, stretching. "How'd it go?"

"Great," Chris said. "Nothing puts things in perspective like going back to where it all started. I'm going to change. Armie said he'd order a pizza."

"I already ordered, it's coming," Sebastian said. Smiles. Genuine smiles all around.

"We'll keep you," Armie said, settling down on the couch. The entire production up in Vancouver was on hold. Either they'd shoot some stuff without him or they could wait. He told the team that it was an emergency and, considering the circumstances, he wasn't entirely wrong. He'd head back up on Monday night. The crew would appreciate a day off. 

Chris came back out in black gym shorts and a faded grey T-shirt. He snuggled up on the couch next to Armie and let out a contented sigh. He'd survived the weekend. If he could come back from that darkness, things could only get better.


	27. Chapter 27

Trigger warning: continued themes of anxiety and depression. This is the last chapter with the trigger warning.

"Work," Chris said. "When I get really anxious, I just concentrate on work and try to ignore whatever's bothering me." He and Armie were sitting in his hotel room, FaceTiming with a counselor. It was the second appointment in a week and Armie insisted that they do it, even though Chris was hesitant. He'd tried it before, but for Armie's peace of mind, he'd try again. He didn't talk much during the first session and as this one wound down, he realized it was more of the same. He was trying to talk more, but hated the words coming out of his mouth. He wanted to be open, but that's just not how he'd ever been. He didn't want to sound whiny or needy. Safe space or not, he just wanted the whole thing to be over.

"I don't want him to stop that entirely," Armie said. "We know that it's part of the process. The ideas come from somewhere, we don't want to lose that."

"Think about the kind of things that come out with your anxiety," Dr. Dao said. "See if it's different from what comes out when you're actually sitting down to write. You'll probably see a big difference. We'll talk about it next week."

"Thank you," Chris said. "I'll do my homework."

"Thank you both for your time," she said. "Good work."

"Not so bad, right?" Armie said, shutting his laptop and kissing Chris' forehead. "She said some good things. Lots for us to work on."

Chris nodded and stood up, making his way to the suite's bedroom to grab a sweatshirt. He pulled it on and came back to the couch. They'd decided that he'd stay with Armie through the production. No traveling for either of them. Armie insisted that it wasn't about keeping an eye on Chris, it was so they could do their joint therapy sessions and because when they were together, it was better for the both of them. If Chris couldn't write, fine. There was time for that later. It was more important now for them to just be. "Is there a museum or something we can walk to?"

"Not one that's open right now, it's past dinnertime."

"Mall?"

Armie chuckled. "Sure. Let's go shopping."

Chris kissed him, his hand lingering on Armie's chest. "I love you. I get what you're doing and it's amazing, but it was one time. It won't happen again."

"Okay," Armie said. "Just two more sessions and we'll be done. I believe in you."

"Two sessions."

They ended up skipping the mall, heading to the waterfront instead. It didn't surprise either one of them that they somehow managed to find themselves at the water. Vancouver wasn't a beach town, though. Skyscrapers came right up to the edge, water meeting concrete. There was no sandy expanse, no volleyball courts. There were only a few parks along the walkway, but the city certainly was making more out of their waterfront property than either Santa Barbara or Venice Beach. 

Armie had been to Vancouver enough to make it feel familiar, but he was still awestruck by the skyline and the density of the city. The people were nice, nobody bothered to even give the two of them a second glance, and there were a lot of coffee shops. Chris leaned against the rail, the wind coming off the water stronger than he expected. Armie leaned down over him, kissing him softly. "No tacos up here," he said. 

"They've got poutine."

Armie chuckled, kissing Chris one more time. "If we just never, ever talked to my mom again, would it be so bad?"

"We have to see her all the time," Chris said. "You can't just drop her entirely. But trust me, if I only her for foundation stuff, I wouldn't care. But you've got to see her more than me."

"Being polite is tough sometimes," Armie said, running his hands down Chris' back.

"I'll hang out with your dad," Chris said. He brought his arms up around Armie's shoulders. "We had to do everything to piss her off, didn't we? And then I go and give the charity all that attention and she doesn't even care."

"Why don't you say these things to Dr. Dao?"

"It's easier to talk to you."

"She's there to help."

"Okay, okay. I'm trying my best."

The memory of Chris' last episode was still fresh in both of their memories. Neither of them wanted it to happen again and Chris had explained that it wasn't completely foreign, but that it was definitely harder to get through that last one than it ever had before.

"We lead a very charmed existence," Chris said. "That I can literally run away from my problems and talk to psychiatrists on the computer."

"Well, that charmed life comes with its own problems," Armie said. "Not everyone has their divorce in the gossip columns."

The darkness was settling around them. Light from the skyscrapers reflected in the ripples of the bay, the entire city was quieting down, and Chris could feel everything around them settling in for the night. "Would it be in bad taste to write a book about how awful this all is?"

"You'd never do that."

"I only write what I know," Chris joked.

"Can I just keep kissing you?"

Chris beat him to it, landing soft kisses on Armie's lower lip, nipping at it one time and kissing him full on. The familiar scratch of Armie's beard, the feel of his tongue, and the way their bodies fit together brought Chris into a comfortable place where the world melted away. It was exactly what he needed when the dull ache in his chest seemed to grow and intensify without warning.

"I love you," Armie said, his lips still brushing against Chris'. "If you didn't have the Santa Barbara house, where would you have gone?"

"I don't know. My charmed life includes a contingency property."

"I'm serious," Armie said. "Please don't run away again. I know you told me where you were, but I was still worried." Chris nodded and rested his head on Armies' chest. "Why are you crying?"

Armie's warm hands held Chris tight against him. "I'm just mad at myself." Chris' voice was quiet. "You deserve better than me."

"No, I don't," Armie said. Chris was sniffling and wiping his face with his hands.

"Should we get some food?" he said after he composed himself.

"Read my mind."

A cab ride to Chinatown had them in front of a noodle house that had a line of at least 20 people. Chris was starving, but it looked like the place was worth the wait, especially if this many people thought so. Armie's hand was around Chris' waist as they waited, the smell of pork broth and egg noodles wafting from the door every time someone left.

"Chris, I think you're drooling."

"I'm not," Chris said, eyes wide. They inched closer and closer to the front of the line and Chris felt like a cool Travel Channel host that had just stumbled upon a secret restaurant. Everyone that came out was smiling wide, which was always a good sign.

"You are," Armie said, a goofy grin on his own face.

Chris was tapping away on his phone, looking at photos of the food, reading reviews and advice on what to order. When they arrived inside, Chris practically bounded to the counter, where they sat with only 10 other diners. "Hand-pulled noodles," Chris said confidently. "Two bowls with everything. Shrimp dumplings. Gai lan. Thank you."

The server didn't say a word, just slid two cups of tap water across the counter and walked turned around to relay the order to the chefs. It was a well-oiled machine and Armie watched as Chris took it all in, eyes wide and attention rapt. Armie ran his hand up and down Chris' back.

"I can't give you a supportive mom and movie-director dad," Armie said, a bit of resignation in his voice. "It might have to be just you and me. Is that enough?"

"That's not what I was looking for," Chris said. "I just didn't expect your mom to be more involved with your ex-wife than your current husband and actually go out her way to make me feel like an insignificant part of her life. I'm only slightly exaggerating."

"No, you're not. She wants nothing to do with you unless you're handing her a check for the charity."

Two steaming bowls of noodles got set in front of them and Chris dove right in, his practiced chopstick skills making short work of the slippery strands. Distractions, Armie saw, kept things steady. Keeping Chris' mind away from thoughts of Dru was key, especially since Armie would have to talk to his mom to get some concrete boundaries set. If there wasn't even a tiny bit of closure, Chris would never be able to move on. 

"So good," Chris said between slurps.

"Very good," Armie said, grinning.

"I'm depressed," Chris said, his reaching down to grip at Armie's knee. "And I'm anxious and I know that. But I'm not going to hurt myself or anything. I promise." More of their food arrived without a word from the server.

"I know that," Armie said, his hand coming up to grip Chris' shoulder.

"I don't want you to think that I need a babysitter all the time."

Armie's thumb traced along Chris' jaw. "I want you to feel safe, happy, and loved. I know that's not easy, but I'm here to make it as easy as I can."

Chris' hand came up to grasp Armie's wrist and he planted soft kisses on his knuckles. "I was an orphan. It's hard not to feel like I was an orphan all over again when the divorce happened."

"You're not an orphan," Armie said. "I hate that you even feel like you were."

"I am the literal definition of an orphan," Chris said. "I may not be in a Charles Dickens novel, but I am definitely an orphan."

Chris went back to his food, but Armie rested his left hand on his leg. "I'm sorry," Armie said. "But technicalities aside, you've got a family. It's definitely not a traditional one, but you've got people who care for you very much."

"I'm lucky," Chris said. "I know that. I want to be better for you."

"No, you do it for yourself," Armie said. "For you."

And because Armie knew exactly what to say to make him feel like he could take anything on, Chris believed him completely. With that kind of cheering squad to lift his spirits, there was no way he'd let anyone or anything get him that far down again.

Two weeks together in Vancouver, where they became regulars at that late-night noodle house, were followed by a week in Santa Barbara. Two more sessions with Dr. Dao came with the promise to keep her in the loop, whether the progress was good or bad. The week left Armie tanner, his hair lighter, and his spirits in a very good place. Chris hadn't fallen back into his anxiety, even as he was having a slew of back-and-forth emails with David. The new outline was weak in the third act and needed polishing. But there was no rush, David told him. Make it right and they'd keep on. So, back in Venice, Chris focused on the way Armie's muscles looked when he came in from jumping rope instead of tying up loose strings in his book. He ran with Sebastian along the beach in the morning and made sure to take a slow walk all the way out to the end of the pier afterwards, excited to hear about Sebastian's latest projects as they had cappuccinos from paper cups.

They're at the aquarium with Ramona and Gloria when Armie spots them: his mother and his ex, together, folders in hand, looking more at the building and the open space than the fish behind the glass. Chris is oblivious, his face pressed up to the tank alongside the girls'. Armie had read plenty about what his mom had done, though he hadn't spoken directly to her about it. Dru had helped Liz open a bakery in Dallas. They had a second location opening soon, with plans for a third. It was to be a mini empire built on pastel pastries. He wondered what they were doing in Long Beach, far from Dru's usual stomping grounds and half a continent from Liz's current projects.

Armie had learned a long, long time ago that it was hard to stay incognito when you stood at 6 foot 5. They'd spot him in no time if they actually paid attention to their surroundings. "Chris, my mom is here," he said as he reached for Chris' shoulder. "Liz is with her. I don't know why."

Ramona turned to look at exactly whom Armie was referring to, but Gloria was still transfixed on the colorful fish. Chris stood up and followed Armie's sightline, freezing when he saw it for himself. Armie's eyes dart from his mother to his husband and he can see the color drain from Chris' face.

"I'm sorry," Armie said. "I don't have any clue what's happening here."

Chris held onto Ramona's hand and Armie did the same to Gloria, who probably felt the tension herself. It felt like hours, but Dru spotted Armie in no time at all. She and Elizabeth made their way through the sparse crowd and approached them, creating a motley crew of blended families and failed relationships.

"What a surprise, mom," Armie said.

"Hi Dru," Chris said, offering a wave. "These are my nieces, Ramona and Gloria."

"Pleasure to meet you two young ladies," she said.

Liz introduced herself to the girls with a sweet smile and then turned to Chris. "We've never officially met."

"And now we have," he said as he offered a hand. Liz took it gracefully, shaking it gently. "Christopher Hammer. Lewis. Hammer. Chris Hammer."

"I've read all your books," she said. He'd never seen her in real life. She was disarmingly beautiful. Long, wavy brown hair topped lean limbs. She was carrying an expensive purse and wore heels, even though she was touring an aquarium. This glowing, modern-day goddess couldn't make it work with Armie Hammer, with his movie-star good looks and ineffable charisma? He felt two inches tall, even though he was the one with the ring on his finger now. He was the one Armie loved, but it wasn't that long ago that Armie loved Liz. 

She'd had him. She knew the curve of his shoulders, the way he bit his lip when he came especially hard, the way his chest hair and his beard basically blended into one another if he let things get too out of control. There was so much common ground, but they couldn't be more different. Chris could feel his heart race and his self-esteem drop. Gloria's attentions were being tested, her grip on Chris' hand growing impatient. There were fish to see.

"I appreciate you saying that," Chris said. "I hope you liked them."

"Girls, this is my mom and Elizabeth and I were married before I was married to your Uncle Chris."

"You're very pretty," Gloria said, smiling. Liz blushed, responding with a sweet, cooing thank you and a compliment to Gloria's glittery sneakers.

"We're planning a fundraiser," Dru said. "Thought we'd take a look at the facilities here."

"It's beautiful," Chris said. "The kids love it. We all do."

"It's a bit fussy for what we had in mind," Dru said. "But we'll keep an open mind and see what they can offer."

Armie could sense Chris unraveling beside him. "Why don't you take the girls to the turtle tank and I'll catch up? They came for the animals, not to talk."

Relief. "Yeah. Great idea," Chris said, his breaths catching as he tried to pull a few words together. The girls said their goodbyes and Chris was grateful to have a legitimate, justifiable reason to remove himself from the situation. He gave Armie a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbed both of his niece's hands. 

"Watch your uncle, girls. Don't lose him," Armie said. 

"You haven't been returning my phone calls," Dru said. Elizabeth was silent, but there was a smug expression pricking at the corner of her glossy lips.

"I've emailed you," Armie said. "You couldn't fit me into your schedule."

"He's handsome," Liz said, watching as Chris led the girls away, not looking back even once.

"You always were into big Bambi eyes," Dru added.

"And he's smart, well-respected, and makes me very, very happy," Armie said.

"Chris is great," Dru said. "Very nervous, though."

"It's because you're intimidating," Armie said. "And ungrateful. Sometimes, passive-aggressive."

Liz's eyes widened at the sound of those words. Everyone thought them, but nobody ever said them out loud. "Unless you're going to be supportive of us together, there's no reason for you to see him. And it should go without saying that we're very much a package deal, mom."

"Don't threaten me."

"I'm not. I'm urging you to get past whatever is keeping you from being the open, caring person I know you can be. Chris has done everything he can and you're dismissing a real relationship with him because of what? He doesn't fit into your narrow view of what's proper?"

"That's not why."

"Then why, mom? Why are you still doing anything you can to spend time with Liz and making no effort to even find common ground with my husband?"

Chris sat down on a bench, just a few feet away from Ramona and Gloria, who were entranced by a duo of playful sea otters sliding and swimming around their enclosure. He was grateful that there was some sort of feeding demonstration to keep their attention, because he was having trouble keeping his breathing even. Gloria came over to sit on his lap and he held her steady as she watched the trainer interact with his wards, feeding them scallops and explaining how they swam on their backs and used rocks to open shellfish. Ramona was practically jumping up and down she was so excited to see them so close.

"They're like water puppies, aren't they?" Chris said softly. Gloria nodded, her eyes darting from her excited sister to the otters, which were now doing somersaults under the water.

"Are you tired?" Chris asked. "Do we need a nap?" Gloria shook her head. There was too much happening for her to even think about taking a nap. Chris could use one, he thought.

"I honestly just needed her advice," Liz said. "But lunch ran long and she wanted my opinion on the aquarium as a venue. It's not like we're working together."

"She's an investor in the bakery, Liz. I know that much."

"She underwrote an entire 12-part TV series for you two."

"Chris raised more than five million dollars for the foundation," Armie said. "He'd never admit it, but he paid for that whole show."

"Nonsense," Dru said.

"I saw the paperwork," Armie interrupted. "You all think I don't care about that foundation, but there are things I don't overlook. If Chris is involved, you know I'm going to make sure everything's right."

"That's enough," Dru said as she stiffened. "We've seen enough. I've heard enough from you. There's a time and a place for conversation like this and it's not here."

"Have a safe trip back to Texas, Liz," Armie said. "Please, stay there and stay far, far away from my mom." He leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek. "Have a good afternoon, mom. I'll see you around." He shook his head and walked away, leaving the pair to their business and hoping that it'd be a while before he saw either one of them.

The sea turtles were far less animated than the otters, but the girls were still glued to the action. In the tropical fish display, the colors were bright and the huge turtles wound their way between coral and rocks like they were gliding through air, not swirling water. "I've got you," Armie said, catching Chris' sunglasses in midair as they fell off his head. Gloria had knocked them off as she jumped excitedly into Chris' arms.

"How did that go?" Chris asked.

"I took care of it," Armie said, giving Chris a quick kiss on the temple. "Don't worry about it. How are you holding up? Everything okay?"

"You definitely have a type," Chris said, his gaze still fixed on the fish. "Dark hair. Willowy. Probably a little damaged."

"She was a society girl," Armie said. "I thought I was doing what I was supposed to."

"Everyone probably thought she just wanted you for money and fame."

"And everyone would be right," Armie said. "I didn't see it. I didn't listen. And now, I'm with you."

"Everyone probably thought I just wanted money and fame."

"You know that's not true. I am a big step down from what you had before. In more ways than one."

"Ramona, can you watch your sister in the bathroom, please? Armie and I will be right here," Chris said. "We can't go into the girls' side."

"We'll be right back," she said, holding her sister's hand and escorting her to the restrooms on the other side of the exhibit.

Chris felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Armie brushed it away with his thumb. Their eyes locked. "All we can do is keep on going," Armie said. "Whatever happens with my mom, I'm with you." 

Armie's arm came around Chris' back and he pulled them closer together. Chris rested his forehead on Armie's shoulder, doing everything Dr. Dao had recommended: deep breaths, counting at a steady pace, pinching that weird flap of skin between his thumb and index finger. But it was the way Armie held him tight and the familiar combination of cologne and dryer sheets that kept his heart from racing and sinking at the same time, not anything he'd learned at therapy.

"Uncle Chris needs a nap," Gloria said.

"Yeah, he probably does," Armie said. "Are you girls ready to keep going? We can touch sharks outside." The mere mention of sharks was enough to send them into a second wave of frenzied excitement. "Let's head out there."

Chris took one more second to compose himself before getting up again, holding onto Gloria's hand. Ramona looked up at him, his exasperated expression a stark change from the joy that painted his features earlier. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?" she asked.

"No, nothing. Let's go touch some sharks," Chris said.

It was an afternoon of sharks, a quick drive, and two sleeping passengers -- that would be Gloria and Chris -- before they all arrived back in Venice Beach. Maggie would be here any minute to pick them up and Chris did his best to make sure that they were presentable. Clean hands, clean faces, and full stomachs via individual build-your-own pizzas that Armie helped them make. They were presentable and he survived one more day being the best ex-uncle he could be. 

"We'll see you guys soon," Chris said as he made sure everything they came with would be leaving with them: jackets, reusable water bottles, and everything else Maggie had packed into a tote bag she'd left in the entryway.

"Not soon enough," Maggie said, stepping into the kitchen. She pat Gloria on the head as Ramona came over to pull her mom into a hug. "Thank you again for babysitting. I'm sure these monsters gave you lots of trouble."

"Can I get you something to drink?" Chris asked.

"There's cauliflower pizza leftover," Armie added. 

"I can't see why that's the case," Maggie said, rolling her eyes. "I'll take some water and I'll take a quick tour."

"I'll show you the room I stayed in last time," Ramona said. "Chris and Armie left my rocket in there."

"Lead the way," Maggie said, impressed by her own child's enthusiasm. Chris handed her a glass of water and Armie followed as Ramona led her mother upstairs. Chris straightened up the kitchen and made his way out to the patio, sitting in his usual spot and coming to the realization that his usual spot usually involved having Armie to lean against.

Chris turned on the fire pit and folded his legs under him, taking in the calm of the evening, the scent of eucalyptus barely noticeable and the quiet of nighttime settling in on the neighborhood. It was slightly too hot for the fire, but it added to the ambiance, so there was no reason not to have it going. He turned it down to the lowest setting, which still offered a warm glow. 

"That man is very good with children," Maggie said, sitting down across from Chris.

"Yeah, there's not much he's not good at," Chris said. "Did your audition meeting thing go okay?"

"Perfect," Maggie said. Chris could see her relax. "This is amazing. Why do you ever leave?"

"I try not to," Chris said. "Honestly. It's a mess out there."

"Even with that breathtaking man by your side?"

"I'm a lucky guy," Chris said. He sat up straight and stretched his arms over his head. "I never realized just how lucky until I lost some really great things. Armie's family is nothing like you and your parents. When it's gone, it's really hard to lose that foundation."

"You didn't lose anything. Mom and dad would help you no matter what. Why would you think otherwise?"

"I don't know why. I thought I had to keep my distance from everything. I was wrong, I know. It was...just with Jake and everything...I didn't want Armie to think I was hung up on that."

"So, what? You just didn't need help?"

"I did, I just didn't ask for it."

"Either we're all getting frozen yogurt or you need to hit the road. The natives are getting restless," Armie said, standing in the doorway.

"There's a Japanese soft serve place on Abbot Kinney," Chris suggested.

"I'll get them back to the house," Maggie said. "You guys are great, but I'll give you the rest of the night off. Remember what I said, Christoper, Jake is the only one that divorced you. You're still stuck with the rest of us."

Chris nodded and followed Maggie back into the house. He gave Ramona and Gloria a kiss each on their heads and walked them out to the front door, Armie staying a few paces behind. "Be good, you two," Chris said as he waved goodbye. 

Armie wrapped his arms around Chris' waist and rested his chin on Chris' shoulder. "They grow up so fast." Chris shot his elbow back, hitting Armie in the ribs. He recoiled and let out a soft chuckle. "Okay, okay. Bad joke."

Chris untangled himself from Armie's limbs and made himself a cup of tea, bringing it up to his office and settling down at his computer. As soon as he got comfortable, he regretted not changing out of his jeans.

"Are you writing or just doing email stuff?" Armie asked. He came up behind Chris and kissed the back of his neck, his hands rubbing Chris' shoulders.

"I'll be quick," Chris said. "I'm too tired to actually write. I was off my phone all day trying to be a good example for the girls."

"You're too good. They probably didn't even notice," Armie said, planting soft kisses on Chris' shoulders. 

Chris smiled at the sensation, taking a slow, deep breath as he felt the warmth spread through him, starting at where Armie's lips and hands were and filling his chest. He reached over and took a sip of his tea. "Want some?" Chris asked, tilting his head a bit, giving Armie an easier way to access his neck.

Armie reached around, grabbing the mug and bringing it to his mouth. Chris typed out an email and the familiar swoosh of the send notification rang through the room. It was nice being in Chris' office, where Armie had been hesitant to even hang out in since so much serious work happened there. It wasn't exactly sacred, but he knew he could be a distraction. But he could be good, too, and often relaxed on the sofa with a book while Chris wrote. They didn't have to even talk. Just being in the same room was enough sometimes.

"Come to the couch," Armie said. Chris got up, following Armie's suggestion. He sat against Armie, back to chest, his computer on his lap and Armie's fingertips tracing along his sides, feeling around his waist, his eyes scanning Chris' computer every few seconds to see exactly what Chris was doing. Emails to David. Still working on the ending. Responding to a few questions about cover concepts. Sebastian sent a meme about cats being scared of cucumbers. All that got was a happy-face emoji. More emails to David. Dr. Dao sent a few questions, but Armie noticed Chris ignoring that one.

"Tomorrow," Chris said, like he could sense exactly what Armie was thinking. He shut his laptop and slid it under the couch, a safe spot in case an errant footstep or flailing arm managed to come into play. Chris turned around and straddled Armie's lap, finally just doing away with all the pretense and kissing him on the lips. Armie's hands were on his waist almost instantly and Chris felt Armie's tongue sliding against his and the familiar sensation of scratchy beard stubble against his own smooth face. 

Chris pulled off his T-shirt and Armie's lips met bare skin, trailing kisses and soft bites across Chris' chest. Fingers in Armie's hair, Chris closed his eyes and ground his crotch against Armie's.

"Where's the lube in here?" Armie asked, his hands reaching around to feel Chris' butt. Chris leaned down to kiss Armie one more time, cupping his cheeks in his hands.

"We can go to the bedroom," Chris said, his voice already breathy. "Lots of lube in there." Armie's hands were on his waistband now, practiced fingers getting the button and zipper undone before pushing Chris' jeans off. Before Chris could suggest the bedroom one more time, Armie had pushed him down onto his back and licked a long line up his leaking dick.

"Armie," Chris groaned, his back arching and his toes curling as Armie's tongue seemed to be everywhere at once. "There's lube in my desk."

"Knew it."


	28. Chapter 28

Without Armie, Chris would never have gone to the Cayman Islands. He'd never have gotten his name etched into the wall of a museum -- technically on a piece of glass mounted on the wall -- either. But if he'd never met him, he'd be able to go places without attracting attention. "You look really, really sexy," Armie whispered in his ear. With a flaxen-haired movie star on his arm, it was tough to go anywhere incognito.

"You've seen me in this before," Chris said, gripping Armie's hand in his own. "But I'll take the compliment."

They'd gone to so many movie premieres that Chris was basically running on autopilot. The car dropped them off, they got out together, buttoning their suit jackets in an easy, practiced motion, and walked down the red carpet, right through the scrum of photographers and reporters. Most of the time, they held hands. No pictures separately, thank you very much, but Chris would step aside if Armie needed to get in a shot with the cast. Armani? Yes. Armie's go-to guy. Chris? The same Alexander McQueen he wore the time before and the time before that. Sorry, "GQ," find your excitement elsewhere. Yes, they were still married, that went without saying. The handholding got that point across. No, there wasn't another joint project on the books just yet. No, they weren't against the idea entirely; it was just about Chris getting around to writing another movie. No new questions, ever.

"Is there food inside, or is this an In-N-Out situation?" Chris asked.

"You want In-N-Out even if there's food at these," Armie said. He wrapped his arm around Chris' waist and led him through the crowd, satisfied that they'd talked to enough reporters. Armie was always more conversational with them, but even he didn't have the patience tonight to speak to more than a few.

Armie stood with his shoulders back, his million-dollar smile gleaming and his arm proudly around Chris' waist as one more round of flashbulbs and shutter clicks filled their evening air. He was proud, not only of his movie, but because he had Chris by his side. There was part of him that loved showing him off, letting the entire world know that he'd netted a successful, handsome, and amazing husband. If he never made a movie again, he'd count this relationship as one of his greatest achievements. 

"Christopher Hammer," they both heard from the down the carpet. It wasn't a photographer or a reporter. It wasn't another actor, either. "Can I just tell you how much 'American Made' ruined me?"

"The play or the book?"

"Both."

"Armie, this is Paula. I don't think you ever actually met. She's the president of PBS." Armie offered his hand and Paula took it warmly, shaking it and smiling. She was talking to a movie star. Even more than that, she was touching a movie star.

"We haven't," Armie said. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"When are we getting more from you?" she said to Chris. "I thought we did pretty well. Why did we stop?"

"I think I'm okay with not being on TV," Chris said. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd see you, is why. You're hard to get a hold of."

"I'm actually not," Chris said. "But I wouldn't miss my husband's premiere."

"And congratulations are in order for that," Paula said, looking up at Armie. "This is spectacular. I've only heard good things about the movie."

"I hope you enjoy it," Armie said. "I'm very proud of it."

"Christopher," Paula said. "I'm serious. We need you to keep on making this show. Expand to other states, other countries. I want it. Think about it. I know this isn't a networking event, so I'll let you two celebrate, but please, think about it."

"I'll let you know," Chris said, laughing. "It was great to see you again."

"It almost seemed like you enjoyed yourself back there," Armie said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Nerds unite," Chris said, leaning up and planting a quick kiss on his lips. "I'm going to be in the theater and after your Q&A, let's meet at the concessions and get out. Deal?"

"Slow down. Kiss me like you mean it before you send me out to the wolves," Armie said, wrapping his arms around Chris. Smiling, Chris brought their lips together one more time, pressing his forehead to Armie's when they came apart. "That's more like it."

Most of the press had gone inside the theater, setting up for a quick interview session before the screening. Chris, who'd already seen the movie, would stay outside so that he and Armie could make a quick exit. Only this time, Paula was waiting for him in the lobby of the ArcLight, a knowing expression on her face. 

Instead of having his head craned over his phone, he stood, dressed in his best suit, while Paula explained exactly why he needed to come back. There was an outpouring of support, she explained, from educators and politicians, sure, but also from viewers who decided to overcome their challenges with literacy when they saw other people struggling with it. Being an adult and being illiterate came with a stigma, but one episode showed that it was never too late to learn how to read. Kids who dabbled in blogging were sitting down and writing with actual thought, Paula said, because Chris and fellow author Dave Eggers had shown how a blog could turn into a memoir. He'd given so many people ideas. That alone made the 12-episode run a success. Chris wasn't used to having his accomplishments lavished with so much praise in person. Reading a glowing review was one thing. Hearing it firsthand, complete with enthusiasm and hand gestures, was something else entirely.

"It was a great experience," Chris said. "But I don't want people to get sick of me. They should want to explore for themselves, not do it through a TV show."

"But not everyone can, Chris."

She had a point. "Think about it. I know that it's a passion project. But, lucky for you, you can bring your handsome husband with you. The episodes with Armie were my favorite and I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that."

"I appreciate you coming all the way out here," Chris said. "I'm sure you had other reasons, but the fact that you came to this circus really means a lot."

"No trouble. Doesn't everyone want to feel like a movie star sometimes?"

Chris hadn't thought about it that way in a very, very long time. But seeing Paula, all done up and loving everything about it, from the attention of the reporters to the free Champagne and proximity to A-listers, made him realize just how special nights like this were. She was soaking it up and he couldn't wait to get home. That attitude wasn't right. He should be more like Paula, except he was obligated to be there and she wanted to, which brought things into perspective.

"Everyone deserves to feel like a movie star once in a while," Chris said. "Please, enjoy yourself. Don't let me distract you from having a good time."

"Did you just turn down a job?" Sebastian asked, coming up to stand beside Chris.

"I think so. How long have you been here?"

"How did your audition go?"

"Bombed it. Maybe if you weren't so selfish, we could have done a TV show together."

"Don't count that out yet, she seems pretty set on more."

"That's not really up to her, is it? The show had your name in the title."

"I need some water."

Sebastian snagged a bottle of Perrier from a passing server and handed it to Chris. "Ask and you shall receive."

"I need some inspiration."

"I can't help you there. What's happening?"

"Can't figure out how to end my book. I've been working on it for weeks." Hearing it out loud made it worse. He and David had been working on it, but nothing great was coming out. Act three always gave him trouble, but this time, he couldn't figure out what he wanted to do. Happy endings weren't his usual M.O. Everything else, though, seemed trite, contrived, or too sad. David told him to try a few things, to take a break. All he had to show for the last few weeks was a few drafts that amounted to nothing and a lot of frustration.

"You'll figure it out. What is this book called?"

"'A New Stage of Grief.'"

"Sounds serious."

"You know I don't write fluff."

"Fluff probably doesn't win awards."

"I don't always win awards."

"Good job, man," Sebastian said, looking over Chris' shoulder. Chris felt Armie before he saw him, two long arms coming around his waist, a pair of lips at his cheek.

"Let's get out of here," Armie said. "I think we deserve an early night."

"Did you give your adoring fans everything they wanted?" Chris asked. 

"You tell me," Armie said, kissing any part of Chris' face he could reach. Chris smiled and broke free of Armie's embrace, smoothing his suit and blushing. "You're the only adoring fan that matters."

"Is this new?" Sebastian said, feeling the lapels of Chris' suit.

"Very funny," Chris said. "Okay, are we heading out? Everything set?"

"You're cute when you blush," Armie said, his lips brushing against Chris' ear. "But you're cuter when you're biting your lip and can't keep it together because I'm so deep in you."

Chris felt a shudder shoot down his back and clamped his fist closed, willing his breathing to stay steady as Armie's hand settled on his back and they headed towards the exit.

"You okay?" Sebastian said as they walked out together.

"Just tired," Chris said, hoping that nobody saw the heat he felt in his face.

Watching Armie get dressed up was a treat that Chris couldn't get enough of, but slowly undressing him, taking everything off piece-by-piece was a very rare treat. "How was your night, Mr. Hammer?"

"Mmm," Armie groaned, kissing at Chris' ear. "I had the hottest date at the premiere."

"Yeah?" Chris asked, slowly undoing Armie's tie and pulling it off. Armie's lips were on his, desperate and hungry, licking and kissing, biting softly as Chris undid the top button of his shirt. Slowly, too slowly, Chris worked down the front of Armie's shirt, gently kissing at each inch of exposed skin. Armie's scratchy chest hair rubbed against his face and Chris ran his cheeks along the skin.

"Yes. Everyone was looking at him, but he's mine," Armie's voice was barely above a whisper, his fingers running through Chris' hair, feeling his shoulders. Armie shrugged his jacket off, tossing it over a chair as Chris landed on his knees. He looked up at Armie, his pupils wide, his breath short, and his hands working at Armie's belt.

"I think I had a hotter date," Chris said, mouthing Armie's hard dick through the fine wool of his suit pants. He ran his hands over Armie's abs and he could feel himself getting hot, his body radiating as he unzipped Armie's pants and they pooled around Armie's ankles.

"You're so sexy, Chris," Armie said, breathless. He watched as Chris slowly pulled down his boxer briefs and swallowed the head of his dick. The familiar slick heat of Chris' mouth enveloped Armie's cock inch-by-inch, lips stretched and throat open as Armie sunk in slowly. 

"God, yes," he groaned, holding Chris' head steady and rocking his hips, fucking into the tight warmth, his ears ringing and his heart beating faster as the sound of sucking and slurping seemed to echo through the room. Armie pulled his shirt off, feeling the cool air rush over at him. He looked down again through half-lidded eyes, seeing Chris, still fully dressed, as he bobbed on his dick.

Chris groaned around Armie's cock, sending a shiver straight up Armie's spine, reaching all the way to his ears. Chris moved quicker, turning his head enough to change the angles of each forward thrust, letting Armie fuck over his tongue and straight into his throat. He loved the heavy weight of Armie's cock on his tongue, loved the way that everything, from his field of vision to the smells coming into his nose and the sounds in his ears, was Armie. There was nothing else, nobody else. The world faded away.

Armie felt a tug on his balls and he let out a loud grunt, his toes curling up and his grip on Chris' head tightening. Armie bit his lip and tossed his head back, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out all over him as he got closer to the edge. Chris seemed to sense it, doubling his efforts, groaning as he sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing out and his lips tight as he bobbed up and down the length of Armie's dick. He pulled off to catch his breath, wiping his chin with the back of his hand as he stroked, his grip tight. Armie took the chance to toe his shoes off and kick his pants away. Chris pulled Armie's socks off, his lips and tongue going to Armie's balls as his hands worked to pull the thin material from Armie's feet.

"You can't get enough of my cock, can you?" Armie asked, his voice gravelly. He stroked himself, watching as Chris' tongue swept over his balls, which were drawn up tight to his body.

The words hit Chris hard, sending lighting straight to his dick, which was still trapped in his pants. "I need it," Chris said, his eyes shut.

"What do you need?" Armie asked, hooking his finger under Chris' chin and bringing his eyes up. Their gazes met and Chris shuddered.

"I need you to fuck me, Mr. Hammer," he said, voice quivering.

The edges of Armie's mouth curled up. "Are you ready?"

Chris shook his head and started to take his jacket off. He was burning up, the clothes suffocating him. Armie watched as Chris struggled to undress, his movements clumsy. He tugged his jacket off, turning the sleeves inside out as he pulled his arms through and pulled his tie off. Armie sat down on the bed and watched, stroking his dick slowly. When Chris finally got naked, he was out of breath. He straddled Armie's lap and kissed him, his tongue sliding into Armie's mouth and his hand feeling any skin they could reach. He was desperate for contact, his body tingling all over and his mind hazy.

"Get ready for me," Armie said. "Let me see." 

Chris pressed his forehead to Armie's as he took a slow breath to collect himself. He stumbled off of Armie and scrambled for the lube they kept in the nightstand. In no time, he was on his back, a finger buried in his own ass as Armie watched, his eyes dark and his gaze hungry. 

"That's it," Armie said, almost cooing, his voice as thick as honey. Chris spread his legs apart further as he opened himself, working his ring and willing himself to relax. "You're so good."

"Fuck me," Chris said. Another finger. "Armie, get inside me."

"I usually do that with my tongue," Armie said, feeling Chris' calf and scooting closer. "You like that, don't you?"

"I need you."

Armie leaned over him and kissed him hard, their mouths crashing together. Chris' legs moved on instinct, one up on Armie's shoulder, the other wrapping around his waist. Armie lined up and slid in with one steady stroke. He could feel Chris tense under him, could feel Chris' body open up. He groaned against Chris' throat, sucking and biting at the soft skin as Chris practically whimpered under him. He felt Chris' hands grip his forearms and a low groan vibrate through his body. Armie rolled his hips, offering a few lazy thrusts. He stayed deep, reveling in the hot, clamping muscles of Chris' chute, feeling every squeeze and clench.

"Armie," Chris groaned, voice straining. He held tight as Armie sped up, the sound of skin on skin reaching their ears along with Armie's low grunts. Chris could feel lips and teeth on his collarbones, his shoulders, and his neck. He felt Armie deep inside him, hitting everything just right to make his cock jump.

"Is this what you needed?"

Chris nodded frantically, doing his best to clamp his hole tight, his breathing catching as Armie pushed through his ring, sliding deep with every single thrust. Chris was shuddering under him.

Chris held onto Armie's shoulders, knuckles white as he rolled them over. Riding Armie was his favorite. It got Armie's thick cock in that much deeper, making the stretch that much more intense, and the dull burn a little hotter. Chris kissed Armie softer, moving slowly, taking long, languid bounces, his eyes rolling back.

"I love seeing you like this," Armie said. His hands roamed all over, feeling sweaty skin and tense muscle. Chris was riding him steady and Armie thrust up, getting a whimper or groan to fall from Chris' mouth with every particularly hard pump.

"You feel so good," Chris said. He stroked himself, knowing that it wouldn't take much. He was already so close. He'd been on edge for so long that it only took a few flicks of his wrist before white-hot heat shot through him. He groaned loud and Armie sat up, kissing him and stroking his cheek as Chris shot between them. Armie ground up, biting at Chris' neck and feeling the last few squeezes of Chris' orgasm.

Armie pushed Chris back down on the bed, holding his hands up over his head and pumping his hips. He fucked Chris deeper, longer, knowing that Chris was oversensitive, knowing that everything he was doing was being magnified inside Chris' body.

"Fuck," Armie groaned. He went harder, using every inch, every muscle in his body to fuck deep and long. Chris arched his back, his toes curling as he strained to keep it together. He was on fire and as Armie shot towards his own orgasm, Chris bore down, fluttering his ring on Armie's dick, gasping when Armie pushed through and breathless every time he bottomed out.

Armie came with a thundering groan against Chris' neck, his hips grinding in hard and his cum spilling into Chris' willing hole. His orgasm rocked his whole body and he thrust in even deeper, burying every possible bit of himself inside as he shot. His breath was hot and heavy on Chris' throat, goosebumps coming up as Chris stroked his back. 

"Congratulations," Chris said, tracing along the bumps of Armie's spine. "My big movie star."

"Shhh, we're not done."

Nick and Armie stood on the driveway, sunglasses shielding their eyes as they surveyed their options. "They're not wrong," Nick said. "It's dark."

"It's been that color since we moved in," Armie explained. "I don't think it really...what did they say? 'Disrupt the historic appearance of the property.'"

"This is what happens when you live in a historic home," Nick explained. "But honestly, it could use a fresh coat of paint. We can do it ourselves."

"There goes the afternoon."

"What did you have planned? Lounging downstairs or upstairs?"

"I was going to get the car detailed and...yeah, I guess my day wasn't too busy."

"I'll see what colors are allowed," Nick said, already swiping on his phone. "I told you this place was going to be a lot of trouble."

"Wow, just a few words short of 'I told you so.'"

"No, no. Don't get me wrong. I appreciated the commission. I just knew that this would come back and bite me in the ass."

An hour later, they'd gone to Starbucks and Home Depot, gathering the exact shade of brown that wasn't dark enough to offend whoever was in charge of the National Register of Historic Places. Having that plaque on the front of the house wasn't worth this trouble, Armie thought, especially since the side gate did absolutely nothing but hide a view of the trash can and recycling bins from passersby. It had been a long time since Armie and Nick had spent time alone together and even with the sun beating down on them, it was nice to just hang out. Armie had gathered everything from the garage: an extension cord, a power sander, and plenty of paper to strip off the offending shade of dark chocolate brown and the new haul from Home Depot. Everything was laid out and ready to go, along with two tallboys of Corona.

They'd talked about Dru. Nick, who'd grown up with Armie and, by proxy, his mother, found it hard to believe that his pal would basically burn a bridge like that. It was one thing to do it to an acquaintance, but your own mom? Armie had laid it all out, however, and it was tough to side with Dru, no matter how hard Nick tried to see it from her side.

Armie pulled his T-shirt off, tossing it a few feet away before sliding a dust mask onto his face. He turned on the machine, filling the whole neighborhood with a low hum, and go to work on the paint. Nick stood back, watching the dust fly up around Armie's body, impressed at how great his best friend looked when he was doing manual labor instead of looking like he'd just stepped out of a country club.

It took more effort than Armie had expected. The power sander helped, but whatever paint had been on there was thick and stubborn. Plus, there were grooves between the slats of wood that required special maneuvering. Nick took a turn so that Armie could have a few sips of beer and they both agreed that hiring a pro would have been much, much easier.

"Does this remind you of that volunteer trip we took? We were supposed to help build schools, but we just got wasted on cheap beer and flirted with anything that moved."

"I can barely remember that," Armie said, taking a few steps back to admire his hard work. The wood was exposed, without even a fleck of the old paint left. He picked up his sweaty beer can from the ground and took a long sip.

"You've gotten real boring," Nick said. "Do you recall what else happened on that trip?"

Armie almost spat out his beer at the mention of it. "Nick, it's been 20 years. Everyone's done things that they'd rather forget."

"You never told him, did you?"

"What do you think? We're friends that fucked around a few times. I'm sure he's got a history that I'd rather not know about. I'm happy to be in the dark about some things."

"I thought that's why he didn't like me. It was sort of why I didn't like him at first."

"You were jealous? Were you really holding out for me after all that time?"

"It was nice knowing I had a backup plan."

"It wouldn't have worked out," Armie said before gulping down the rest of the can. "You're a better friend than you are boyfriend. It's why you're still single."

"Don't remind me."

"Do you think about this after every breakup?"

"No, but seeing you so happy all the time, it's tough to be happy for you when I can't get everything straight."

"You'll figure it out. And you know that Chris and I aren't happy all the time. We've been through things. We're going through things."

"Good. You were starting to make the rest of us look bad."

"Do me a favor and don't ever bring that particular memory up again," Armie said. "I pushed it out of my head for a reason."

"Who didn't experiment with their best friend growing up?"

"Stop, stop," Armie said, rolling his eyes. "Pour that paint out, let's get this done."

Chris pulled his car into the driveway, happy to see that the side gate was at least three shades lighter than it was this morning. They'd put off re-painting it for months now and he figured that maybe one day, he'd come to the house and its historic home plaque would be ripped right from the wall. Grabbing his laptop from the passenger's seat, he made his way inside, hoping that Armie had already started dinner or was just waiting for him to go out.

"How'd it go?" Armie asked as soon as Chris opened the front door.

"I think it's done. Naomi likes this one. That's as good as it'll get." He wrapped his arms around Armie, loving the way that their bodies slotted together so perfectly. He kissed Armie and stayed still for a second longer than normal, enjoying the close proximity and the calm that came with it.

"You should have asked for her help before," Armie said. "It would have saved you all these weeks of freaking out."

"Well, aren't you full of great ideas now that I'm all done?"

Chris had spent the entire day with Naomi, poring over his book, making notes where she felt it could be stronger, and finally figuring out exactly how to wrap things up. It wasn't exactly the way he'd mapped it out originally, but it was rare that any of his books did. They usually got away from him, his editors taking the time to rein things in and polish everything up. This time, David wasn't comfortable making sweeping changes to the book, he wanted Chris to come back with something he was sure of. The writer's block didn't help. Chris had offered up a few choices, but none of them had the finesse of his usual work. They read lazy. They weren't emotional enough, or they were too emotional.

"I can tell you're really happy," Naomi said. "These pages show it all. The title's glum, I know you're doing it for shock value, but this isn't a sad story."

"It is about death, how is it not sad?"

"Don't be so naive, Chris, you know what you're doing."

"I just don't want it to be sappy," Chris said, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"There's a difference with what you think sappy is and what you think happy is."

She had a point. He wasn't exactly known for being a cheerful storyteller, but he did have a reputation for leaving his stories open-ended. It wasn't something he was proud of, since so many writers saw it as a cop-out, but he was also just a product of his generation. His peers did it just as often as he did, they just didn't get called out on it. It was the problem with being a big name. He was under a microscope. He had expectations for himself and his readers had a different set of their own. He didn't want to give them something totally off base. He'd tried that. It didn't work.

"Do what feels right," Naomi said. She'd said it before. "Why is this giving you so much trouble?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know if it's because everything's going okay or if because everything's actually not okay."

"You can't be the kind of writer that's only creative when their life is falling apart," Naomi said. "It's not healthy."

"My best work came from a divorce," Chris said. "My creative process is obviously very unhealthy."

"Your mental and emotional well-being is more important than any book. But I won't disagree with you. That was a sublime book."

"Thanks," Chris said. "It got me a whole shelf of awards and at least another few years of relevance with the lit crowd."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Naomi insisted. "That 'lit crowd' thinks you're a sellout. They've thought that since you made your first movie."

It was true. As soon as he'd gotten popular outside the sphere of literary magazine subscribers, NPR members, and the academic elite, along with his sudden appearance in tabloid magazines so many years ago, he wasn't one of them anymore. He was a writer that appeared on late-night talk shows. He attended glitzy events. Chris felt like he had to gain his credibility all over again. The awards shut down the naysayers. The "New York Times" Bestsellers list gave him commercial clout. It all seemed to work out, but he was always his own toughest critic. Balancing being true to his story and wanting it to be commercially viable at the same time wasn't easy. People read books to escape. It was his responsibility to take them somewhere they wanted to go.

"They're jealous," Naomi said. "And I don't say that lightly. To have a book made into a movie is one thing, to have more than one? That's something you should be proud of."

"So, you don't think I need to slap on a happy ending?"

"You're not writing a Disney fairy tale. Happy for you isn't necessarily a happy ending for everyone else."

"I think this is brilliant. It's difficult to write a book with this sort of circular narrative structure, but you're so talented that it reads effortlessly. Don't try to make it more complicated than it is."

"That's the story of my life."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Chris walked her through the outline one more time, just to make sure his notes made sense. Naomi reassured him that it was fine and that there wasn't a reason to worry about it. Overworking it would be just as bad. She mentioned the house and its now-infamous appearance in "Architectural Digest." Chris insisted that she see it in person, but she turned him down. She had things to do and people to see. Chris always took precedent, she explained, but she had responsibilities to herself, too. She'd already met Armie, so Chris wondered if there were other reasons for her to avoid seeing the house. 

He didn't have to wait long. "The divorce was hard on everyone, maybe me more than most. It's hard seeing you play house with him," Naomi said. "Makes me miss all the time we had together."

Chris didn't respond. He just straightened everything spread out around the two of them: the notebooks, pens, and his laptop. He didn't know what to say, but he understood.

"I didn't mean it like that. He's a wonderful man," Naomi assured him, her voice marked with a tinge of apology.

"Next time," Chris said. "I know it's out of the way for just about everything. I get it."

"Venice is beautiful. I hear it shed its bohemian reputation, though."

"When it's as expensive as it is, it's tough for those bohemian artists to afford it."

"Isn't that the truth?"

Armie's broad shoulders were hunched over the stove and Chris settled into his usual spot on the island. He took off his watch, emptied his pockets, and rubbed his eyes, hoping that he could wrap this book up in the next few days. The anticipation was there, but just like every other time he was in this position, he wondered what would happen next. He'd only considered it a few times before, but doing nothing sounded amazing. If he could just take a break from everything, maybe actually learn to use the gourmet kitchen to do more than heat up leftovers or just relax and let his brain settle down, it'd be better for everyone.

"Did you notice the gate?"

"Looks great," Chris said. "Why didn't Nick stay for dinner?"

"He didn't say," Armie said over his shoulder.

"Don't we have to feed him to say thank you?"

"He'll be fine. He can feed himself."

Chris walked over and wrapped his arms around Armie, resting his face against Armie's back. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't be too impressed, it's just Brussels sprouts. There's a pork tenderloin in the oven."

"No, for everything."

"Am I having a case of deja vu? I think we've had this conversation before."

"I don't think so," Chris said, taking a deep breath, his hands rubbing Armie's stomach. "Am I enough? Do you ever feel like it's just me and you against the entire world?"

"If it really was us against the rest of humanity, I don't think I'd want anyone else with me. Except maybe Indiana Jones."

The oven beeped, making Chris' head turn. He laid his ear against Armie's back, listening to the sound of his heartbeat for just a second. "I'll get that."

"I heard you say that Jake's mom helped, why does it sound like things aren't great?"

Chris pulled on oven mitts and opened the oven, sending the scent of rosemary and apples into the kitchen. He pulled the rack out and grabbed the pan, setting dinner down on the stove beside the pan Armie was working on. "This looks so good," Chris said, reaching over to shut the oven. "Sometimes, even with an amazing support system, you can feel like you're all alone. But not completely alone, because I've got you."

"You'll have me no matter what," Armie said. "And even though things are different, I'm sure that Naomi will always be there for you, too."

"Let's hope you're right," Chris said. He grabbed everything to set the table, but decided to take it all to the patio, setting it up outside, instead. He flipped on the fire pit, turned on the string lights that Armie had finally put up, and sat down, thankful for a little quiet. 

"It looks great out here," Armie said, setting down the food. The lights really did make everything look great, the warm light lending a flattering glow to everything around them. The fire helped, too, tossing its own ambiance. Armie sat down and Chris' breath skipped. Of course he looked amazing. Chris didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing the way the glints of gold sparkled in Armie's hair or the way his blue eyes softened when he looked at Chris.

"You're stronger than you think," Armie said as he pulled Chris close. "You might not think so, but I know you. There's nothing you can't take on."

"See? I don't deserve this. You won't even let me spiral into self-doubt."

"What do you even have to doubt right now? You figured out how to end your book, which means you've got nothing to worry about."

Chris didn't say anything, just continued eating and enjoying the proximity to the man he was lucky enough to call his husband. Chris knew that he worried too much, but it came with the territory. Success wasn't guaranteed, for him or for Armie. All Chris could do was put out a book that he could be proud of. The problem was, it was even tougher to follow something that was successful. Expectations were higher all around with his last book still riding high. Thanks to the show and the play, plus Armie's involvement in both, everything he did garnered a little more attention.

"What happened when that book flopped?"

"I worked harder on the next one."

"But you didn't lose focus or lose your contract or anything?"

"No, it probably made me focus even more. It didn't get any movie options or anything, because it wasn't that kind of book. Short stories aren't good for movies."

"And now you're even more popular, so if this book doesn't sell or get bad reviews, it's not like anything really bad can happen, right?"

"You can't think about it like that."

"I don't have to, because I know this book is good."

"You're not an objective critic."

Armie leaned over and kissed Chris on the temple. "Get out of your head," he said softly. "I'm here. I love you."

Chris thought it would take a few days to get his book finished. It took a week. A week of holing himself up in the office for hours at a time, only taking breaks to eat and help Armie run lines a few times. He couldn't even remember if they got tacos on Tuesday. While Chris was focusing on his own project, Armie had a stack of scripts to get through. Deb wanted him to be more selective, but as Armie read through them, nothing really stood out. Deb would, unfortunately, have to go find better projects, especially since Armie had gotten so much acclaim for his last role. He and Chris were both on an upward trajectory and they both knew that a misstep could send either one of them tumbling down. 

Armie had been a rising star for so long that he was always looking for that one project to push him into the stratosphere. He was so, so close. Just like Chris had to find a balance between writing material that was true to himself, but still accessible to readers, Armie needed projects that gave him artistic clout and commercial success. It was a golden ratio that every actor dreamed of and one that he'd been striving towards for so long. He had movies that made a lot of money. He had been nominated for a few awards. He wanted something that could do both.

"Send it," Armie said, stretching his arms over his head. He'd been planted on the office couch so long that his whole body felt stiff. "Send it and we can get some fresh air."

"The window has been open all day," Chris said. "I can smell the beach."

"Did you email him?"

"All set," Chris said, shutting his laptop. "I'm not done though. He'll still have edits."

"But you are done," Armie said, coming over and wrapping his arms around Chris, kissing him and reveling in the sense of accomplishment that radiated from his body.

"I'm proud of you," Armie said, still holding Chris tight. "It took convincing, but you stuck to what you wanted this story to be."

"I listened to everyone except myself. I was right the whole time."

"Okay, it's time to celebrate."

"No, it's not. There's a lot more to do."

"No, it is. Get changed. We're going."

Chris did as he was told. He put on a pair of jeans he knew Armie liked, he put on the thin black sweater he knew Armie liked, and he knew as soon as Armie's expression lit up that he did the right thing. "Look at you," Armie said, smiling wide. "Which one of us is the trophy husband now?"

"Where are you taking me?" Chris asked as he slid his watch on, making sure that Armie saw the finishing touch. He wore it almost every day, but he made a show of it this time for Armie's sake.

"Is it stupid to say that it's a surprise?"

"I'll play along," Chris said. He held onto Armie's hand and followed him out to the car.

"You know I never officially proposed to you, right?" Armie said as they drove south.

"Please don't do that," Chris said. "We're already married. We don't need to be a spectacle."

"I knew you'd say that," Armie said, his hand reaching over to squeeze at Chris' knee. "But I'm not wrong."

"I didn't say you were," Chris added. "I just like our story the way it is. It's very...us. I wouldn't change anything."

"Call the party planner in my phone," Armie joked. "Tell her everything is off."

Chris rolled his eyes and settled into the passenger's seat. They sped down the freeway, past the oil refinery, past the soccer stadium, and past the industrial sprawl of mattress factories and suburban tract housing. "Where are you taking me?"

"Laguna."

Chris let out a contented sigh. They both loved it there, even though it was like driving over an hour from one sleepy beach town to another sleepy beach town. The general feel of Laguna was different, though. Instead of being hip, cool, and beachy the way Venice was, Laguna Beach was relaxed.

"Remember that seafood place we found? With the crab dip?"

"And the rooftop?"

"That one. We're going there."

The drive was quick, looking for parking just as difficult as they remembered, and thanks to the fact that it was a normal weeknight, there was no wait for them to head upstairs and enjoy the ocean view.

"Did you know that Rock Hudson and Charlie Chaplin used to use Laguna Beach as an escape from L.A.?"

"It's a good place to escape to," Armie said, tossing his arm over Chris' shoulders. "Even if you're not Rock Hudson."

Before the crab dip even came out, Armie congratulated his husband and proposed a two-person toast. Chris blushed, but went along with the pomp and circumstance, even though his glass of water didn't quite have the festive look that Armie's beer did. They'd been talking about the book for so long that there was nothing left to say, but part of what Chris loved so much about Armie and about their relationship, was just being with him. They didn't have to be talking. They didn't have to be doing anything. As long as they were together -- and pressed together like they were right now -- everything felt right.

"Do you think that Rock Hudson ever thought he was good enough?"

"I don't really know much about him," Chris said. "But you are good enough. I know that sometimes, you don't think you are, but you are a wonderful man, you are a talented actor, you are a great director. There's nothing that you can't do."

"It doesn't feel that way all the time."

"I try to make you feel that way all the time," Chris said.

"I feel it from you," Armie said, kissing Chris' temple. "I think maybe I'm losing myself in my work. It's time to focus. I'm going to find a passion project."

"I think that's a great idea," Chris said, raising his glass one more time. "To focus."

"Tonight is supposed to be about you," Armie said, clinking his glass against Chris'.

"We're a package deal," Chris said, resting his head on Armie's shoulder.

Chris basked in the quiet. The same smell of surf and sand hung in the air. Armie spoke about what he was hoping to do and Chris could listen to him talk about anything. There was passion behind it, even when he was unsure of himself. Armie's gentle baritone always sounded warm and indulgent, even if he was just talking about the food they were eating. By the time dessert came, Chris let himself enjoy the sense of accomplishment, which never got old. He'd been through this over a dozen times and the mix of nervousness and pride always hit him a different way. No matter how great he thought a book was, there was a chance that nobody would agree with him. This time around wasn't any different.

He never thought he'd feel this way again. Divorce, he realized, didn't mean he wasn't allowed to be happy again. Some people treated it like a death sentence. Others saw it as liberation. Everyone had their own way of dealing with it, but with Armie, Chris was confident that he'd managed to do it right.

"You already have an idea for the next one, right?"

Chris nodded. "I'm writing a love story."


	29. Chapter 29

It always ended up like this: Chris and Sebastian stayed on the edge of the party while Armie mingled, his mega-watt smile practically lighting up the entire room. It was a comfortable routine and Chris was grateful that Sebastian either didn't like small talk or didn't mind being a babysitter. But it made sense for Armie to be the center of attention this time. He'd just wrapped his latest project, which marked directorial debut for a major feature film -- at least that's how the marketing team was billing it. The HBO project, which definitely opened doors for this one, was a tiny project compared to this month-long endeavor. Armie may have had plenty of experience in front of the camera, but he was out to prove that he could be a force behind it, too.

Even though he was halfway across the room, Chris could tell just how happy Armie was. The smile was genuine, the energy was exceedingly positive, and everyone was showering him with nothing but love. As far as parties went, this was informal and intimate. There was a lot more work to be done, but for the actors and crew, it was time to celebrate. Armie and the army of people that worked post-production would handle the rest of it.

"Are you still avoiding her?" Sebastian asked.

"She showed up to a family counseling session," Chris said. "It's a work in progress."

"It's nice to know your life isn't all perfect. Gives some hope to the rest of us." Chris shot him a look and Sebastian held his hands up in mock surrender. "Bad joke. Got it."

"It could be worse. She could turn into a dragon. She could lock me in an attic."

"You've already got the prince, Cinderella."

"She can't take him away," Chris said, catching Armie's gaze. He got a sly wink in return and Chris would be embarrassed at the way it made his heart flutter if he didn't like it so much.

Sebastian took a slow sip of his drink and Chris stood up straight, smoothing his jacket over his chest. He wasn't sure if this was going to be an all-night situation or if things would wind down soon. Either way, he could catch a ride home with Sebastian if Armie wanted to bask in the glow a little longer.

As Chris worked his way through the crowd, Aaron Taylor Johnson, who co-starred in the movie, bumped into him, sending a tiny deluge of Champagne onto his shoes.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Chris said. "Congratulations. Everything looks great."

Aaron smiled, "Good material."

"I'll pass that along," Chris said. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it." Armie had called on the same writer that wrote the short story for his HBO project. She had a lot to choose from, but Chris and Armie made easy work out of it. Most of the stories weren't developed enough to be more than a quick read. But her only other long read, which focused on a family dealing with their mom's dementia, seemed primed for a bigger audience. 

It was the sort of quiet, powerful movie that tackled a topic that everyone had seen in real life. Armie's idea was to keep it so that the whole movie was shot inside the family home, containing the entire plot to a set space and letting the actors play off the idea of being trapped or confined. It was hard to sell, but Armie was stuck on it. After a passionate pitch, he got some investors interested. The promise of showing at a film festival sealed the deal, because Armie basically swore he'd be able to find a distributor as long as he could get everything made. Charm and charisma went a long way in the movie business and Armie had plenty of both.

"I'm sure I'll see you around. Toronto? Palm Springs?" Chris added.

"All of the above," Aaron said. "It was good to get to know you this whole time. Thanks for all the books."

"Don't worry about it," Chris said. "We've got a lot of them."

"Sorry again about your shoe," Aaron said, offering a weak smile. "It's just so crowded."

Chris brushed it off and made his way to his husband, who was holding a clapperboard and posing for selfies with various members of the cast and crew. "That's a wrap," Armie said, exaggerating for effect and giving Chris a big, toothy grin. "I think it's time this party wraps up."

"It's still an hour until last call," Chris said. "You sure you don't want to stay?"

"I want to soak it all in, but I want to do it with you," Armie said before leaning over and kissing Chris, pressing their foreheads together as their lips came apart. "Let's get out of here."

Armie said a few goodbyes, the crew insisted that he keep the clapperboard as a souvenir, and Chris wrangled Sebastian from the crowd and into the car. By now, the freeways were traffic-free and as they drove south, Chris saw the Hollywood sign lit up in the rear-view mirror. 

"Thanks for driving," Sebastian said from the back seat, his eyes already heavy with sleep.

"Do you want to spend the night at our place?" Armie asked, reaching for Chris' hand over the center console.

"I live two blocks from you," Sebastian said. "I can walk if you don't want to drop me off."

"I can drop you off," Chris said.

The drive was quicker than any of them expected. True to form, Chris walked Sebastian to his front door after he offered Armie one last round of congratulations. The two friends shared a hug before saying their goodbyes for the night and it took just a few more minutes for Chris and Armie to pull into their own driveway.

"Come here," Armie said, offering his hand. Chris took it and followed Armie around the house, going out towards the canals. Armie kissed him as soon as they got onto the main path, everything illuminated by moonlight. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Chris squeezed Armie's shoulders and felt himself being pushed against the rail, the cool metal sending a chill up his back, even through the material of his button-up. He left a few soft kisses on Armie's throat and nuzzled his neck. 

"You're amazing," Chris said, his voice quiet. It was well past midnight by now, but the world around them seemed so alive. The crickets were chirping, their sharp melody joining the sound of the water gently splashing against the concrete sides of the canal. Chris could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as Armie held them together even closer, every groove and curve fitting so that there was maximum contact. He shivered when he felt Armie's fingertips slotting into the sliver of skin exposed at his lower back as his shirt rode up. Their lips came together, tongues running against each other, Armie leaning down ever so slightly and Chris up on his tiptoes to get the angle just right. It was unhurried, but there was always an underlying sense of urgency, because even after all this time, it was hard for Chris to control himself when Armie was this close.

"When we met, I didn't know you'd bring this out. Being with you makes me want to be better," Armie said, his eyes half-closed, his lips brushing against Chris' as he spoke. Armie's hand inched down this time, dipping into Chris' jeans and eliciting a soft whimper from the depths of Chris' throat. "Did you do what I asked?"

Chris nodded, his breath getting quicker and his legs quivering the tiniest bit. The corners of Armie's mouth curled up and he pulled away just long enough to unbutton his own shirt, sliding it down his arms and letting it fall to the ground. Chris was panting, fumbling with his belt as the chorus of crickets and ocean waves seemed to amplify around him. His sweater joined Armie's shirt and he felt Armie's hands at his waist, turning him around. Chris' hands gripped the railing, his knuckles white as Armie pushed his jeans down. Armie hand slid down the middle of Chris' back and his fingers met the silicone plug, a low groan escaping Chris' mouth. It wasn't huge, it was actually on the small size, just enough to keep him open and ready, not to stimulate him too much, especially at something like a premiere.

"Fuck, baby," Armie whispered. The words shot right up Chris' spine. It was so rare for Armie to call him that, it hit some part of his brain and he felt it from his toes to his ears. He arched his back and bit his lower lip. Armie was pushing on the plug gently, turning it, slowly working it in and out. It was sending Chris into sensory overload and he couldn't keep his groans and grunts in his throat. They fell out and, by now, Chris didn't care that they were outside. Armie's lips were on his neck and one hand was coming around to stroke his dick, to feel his abs, running over his chest to get any contact. Chris whimpered when Armie carefully pulled the plug out. The empty, open feeling was fleeting, because Armie pushed right in, sheathing his whole length after one push, sliding through Chris' slick hole right to the hilt. 

"Armie," Chris groaned, his head dropping forward and his back arching. He could feel Armie against his back, his hand all over him, his cock pushed in deep and already sliding in and out at a frantic pace. Chris pushed back, his groans low and deep in his throat. The stretch was still there, the deep burn that always came with Armie fucking him, but the entry was easier thanks to the plug. He kept his hole as tight as he could, clamping down hard, pulling groans from Armie as he moved. 

Armie's hand came up Chris' chest to grip at his throat, squeezing as he kissed and bit at Chris' shoulder. He slammed his hips forward, skin smacking skin loud, the sound of sex filling the night air. Armie kicked Chris' feet further apart, giving him more room to push forward. Chris felt slick and warm around him and even though Armie's head was spinning at the combination of the cool air and their warm bodies, he knew that it was probably best to make this quick. Anyone could walk by. Armie kept fucking, grinding his cock in deep with every thrust and pulling out almost entirely, feeling Chris' ring grip right below the head of his cock. He bit down on Chris' shoulder and reached around to stroke him, getting a slew of profanities from Chris' lips.

"Armie, Armie," he groaned, his voice straining and his body tensing every time Armie's cock raked over his prostate. He'd been on edge for hours, the plug making itself known every time he sat down, every time he moved, almost, and when Armie replaced it with the warm stretch of his cock, Chris knew he wouldn't last. Armie's hand gave him a few more steady strokes and he came undone, shooting as he doubled over the rail, pushing his ass back and grateful that he had something to steady himself against as his body shook and his eyes saw nothing but white. 

Chris felt Armie shudder behind him, felt his sweaty chest fall against his back. A hard thrust later, Armie was cumming, his load shooting deep in Chris' ass and his forehead pressed against the back of Chris' head. "God, Chris," he said, voice breathy. 

'We need to get inside,' Chris thought, the rational part of his brain coming to the forefront. But every other part of his brain was still in a haze. He felt Armie behind him, his breathing slowing down again and his face nuzzling against Chris' neck and shoulders. One last kiss, one more lingering touch down his chest and Armie pulled away, grabbing Chris' hand with one of his own and reaching down to pick up their discarded clothes with the other. His brain may have been in a haze, too, but it was functioning enough to get them both into the house. 

Chris' eyes were blank and unfocused, his hands folded in his lap as he listened to the scratching of Dr. Dao's pen on her notepad. Dru had left and Armie followed her out the door, telling Chris that he'd be right back and giving him a soft, tender kiss on the cheek. Chris always felt this way after seeing his mother-in-law, the same frightening numbness that made his whole body stiff. Family counseling was supposed to help Chris' anxiety, but he swore it only made things worse. He did have to admit that Dru was doing her best and even though some of the things she said during their sessions made Chris cringe, he was grateful to have a place where he could listen to her talk about him and Armie without having her society-woman veneer on. 

"Tell me what you're feeling right now," Dr. Dao said, noticing Chris' rigid posture.

"Sometimes, I forget what it was like to have a mom," Chris said. "But I know this isn't what you're supposed to feel. But what's the point of even trying?"

"That's something you have to consider," she said. "If it's not important to you, these appointments shouldn't continue. But it goes both ways. If she's not taking what you say into consideration, there's not going to be progress."

Armie slipped back into the room, sitting back down exactly where he was, crossing his legs the same way, and pulling Chris' hand into his own, just like it had been before. "Anything else?" he said.

"Just one thing," Dr. Dao said. "I need you both to know that this whole journey doesn't necessarily end in a happy ending. If that happens, it doesn't mean that either one of you has failed. Remember that."

Chris was quiet, which was nothing new. After just about every appointment, he had a homework assignment, which involved journaling. His usual routine involved driving to his regular coffee shop to work on it. Sometimes, Armie sat with him. Other times, he'd ask to be alone. This time, Armie had emails to get to and a script to read, so Chris was happy to have him. Two cappuccinos, one half-eaten chocolate croissant, and Chris' phone sat on the table while he wrote, his brain dump filling page after page, his handwriting perfect and precise even though he seemed to be writing at light speed.

"She invited us to dinner," Armie said, his eyes flicking up to catch Chris' reaction.

"I'll have to get my loafers polished," Chris deadpanned, his pen only slowing down for a second.

"I can try to get us out of it."

"You don't have to," Chris said. "It's fine." He flipped the page and wrote a few more lines before sitting up and finishing the rest of his coffee.

"Done?"

Chris nodded. "For now. I'm in a work in progress. Mental health is a process. That's what Dr. Dao says."

"So is blending a family," Armie said. "We'll work on that tonight."

"Are you going to finish that croissant?"

"It's all yours."

Armie wrapped his arm around Chris' shoulders and kissed his ear. "It'll be fine. If anything gets to be too much, tell me. We'll leave."

One stop at the grocery store and they were home. As Armie stocked the fridge, Chris sat out on the patio, his knees drawn to his chest as he went over everything he'd written down earlier. The exercise was to clear his mind of the static that clouded the more important thoughts in his head. Armie watched from inside the house, the hazy sunshine spilling all over Chris as he flipped through the pages, his highlighter flying over the paper, touching down every so often. Armie never looked at the journals, not that Chris kept them a secret. He didn't want to interfere. If and when Chris talked about it, he'd be around to listen.

"There was a person in Pennsylvania," Chris said, turning to look at Armie. "I met him during the show. He was completely illiterate. He couldn't read a single word, but he had the entire Bible memorized. He had every word of it committed to memory. When I talked to him, he said that even though he couldn't read it, he carried the Bible with him everywhere because it was the word of God."

Armie came out and sat down next to Chris, who had shut his journal and set it down. "He was so thankful when he was learning to read because he said it was like coming into God's light. He had heard about so many things and he was so excited to read about them himself. If I had never gone to that lunch with your mom and heard her say those things, I would be in the dark. The guy had to learn how to read. Your mom needs to learn that she can't see me as a...I don't know...a speed bump? An inconvenience?"

"We rushed into everything," Armie said. "I thought she'd rush along with us. Honestly, I thought she'd be better about it. She's good at putting on a fake smile."

"Where's my Xanax?"

"You don't have any." 

Chris sighed. "I'm going to change." He pulled Armie along with him as he headed upstairs. 

"You look fine," Armie said. He settled down at the foot of the bed, leaning back on his hands as Chris went into the walk-in. "I really appreciate this," he added. "I know you're trying. And I know you're not just doing it because Dr. Dao told you to. She didn't. This is all you."

"We all seek approval," Armie heard from the closet, along with rustling and the familiar sound of Chris rifling through the clear plastic boxes he kept his shoes in. "Remember that book 'Are You My Mother?'"

"Are you serious?" Armie asked, his eyebrow raised as Chris stepped out of the closet. He was wearing dark blue jeans that hugged him just right, a plain white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. "You're going to 'Rebel Without a Cause' my mom?"

"It's more 'Grease.' The jacket's not red."

"Sorry. I was looking at...other things. 'Grease.' Yeah."

"Everyone has their own armor," Chris said, kneeling on the bed between Armie's spread legs. He leaned in for a kiss, feeling Armie's hands slide up under his jacket, rubbing his back through the thin material of the T-shirt.

"You were wearing this jacket the first time I met you," Armie said.

"I was?" Chris said, pulling back. He didn't get very far. Armie's hand so his back kept him in place.

Armie nodded. "At the Chateau. That audition. I was feeling like shit. I saw you in this jacket and you intimidated the shit out of me."

"Me?" Chris chuckled, pressing his forehead back to Armie's. "I'm not intimidating. I don't know if I could even try to be intimidating."

"You've never been on the other side of an audition."

"What time are we meeting your mom?"

"We've got time," Armie said, kissing Chris' again.

Dinner was fine. So was the second time Dru invited them over. Then, she suggested that it should happen every Sunday night. That was too much, Armie insisted. So, they compromised. Every other Sunday, Chris and Armie would come over for dinner, bring dessert with them, and everyone would earn a gold star from Dr. Dao. It worked. By the fourth time, Chris didn't feel his pulse race or his body go rigid every time Dru spoke to him. It was important to Armie that everyone get along and since Armie meant the world to his mother, she was doing her best, not just going through the motions. It wasn't quite enjoyable yet, but Chris could see it getting to be less of a chore. If anything, it kept him abreast of exactly what was going on with the money that he and Armie had earned for the foundation. As long as the book donations and literacy initiatives that he'd worked so hard to establish kept moving along, the foundation could keep using him to promote itself.

"Book tours don't really happen anymore," Chris said, sitting back in his chair. He'd just polished off a slice of chocolate cake and wondered if it was too early to get a second. "People buy books online. I only really promote my books on the radio or on TV. The UCLA panels are pretty rare."

"That's a shame," Dru said.

"Times change. We've all got to adapt."

"He's already number one in Amazon pre-orders for his new book," Armie added.

"That's very exciting," Dru said. Chris read her carefully, trying to see if that comment was sincere or not. He stopped himself, however. That was the wrong way to approach a compliment.

"There's a lot to be excited about," Armie said. "The movie's almost done and we're going to shop it around at the festivals. Then, I think we're going to head to the island for a little bit and, hopefully, recharge and just chill out. We're both sort-of feeling burnt out and Chris already has an idea for his next book so I'm trying to keep him from falling into that hole for as long as I can."

"I'm going to get some water, can I get anyone anything from the kitchen?" Chris asked, standing up. 

"I'm fine, dear," Dru said, smiling.

"I'll take some water, too," Armie said, handing Chris his glass.

"I can't tell you how happy these dinners make me," Dru said, putting her dessert fork down daintily. 

"They're nice," Armie said.

In the kitchen, Chris opened the fridge, looking for the Pellegrino that he knew Dru kept on the bottom shelf. He pulled a bottle out, cracking it open and topping off Armie's water glass and filling his own. His phone buzzed from his pocket and he set down the bottle, making sure not put it down too hard to avoid a bang on the marble counter. It was an email from David.

"Armie," Chris said, his voice shaking. "We need to go."

"What happened? Is everything okay?" Armie had practically sprinted into the kitchen to see Chris gripping the edge of the counter.

"I'm fine," Chris said, wiping errant ears from his eyes. "David just told me that my professor died. Sam. I don't think you ever met him. We have to go to Palo Alto. The funeral is on Monday."

"Yeah. Anything," Armie said, breathing a sigh of relief and pulling Chris into a tight hug. Armie had never met the professor, had never even heard Chris mention him, but he did know that Chris kept in contact with a lot of his teachers -- his mentors, really -- via email. He'd get coffee with them if they were in town, but he never really made an effort to see them on his own accord. He regretted that right now. 

"He was old. He was old when I was in school, so...I guess it was time," Chris said, steadying himself. "I don't think he ever even retired. He taught until...today, I guess."

"Hey," Armie said. "We'll go. Whatever you need."

"I'll clean up," Dru said from the doorway. "You boys do what you need to."

"Sorry," Chris said. "I didn't mean to cut this dinner short."

"It's fine, we were winding down," Dru said. "I'll take care of everything."

"Thank you," Chris said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even looked at my phone. This professor was the one that helped me with my first book, we workshopped it together. He was more than just a mentor. He encouraged me."

"That's very special. Please, go. Make your arrangements. I'll see you two when you get back."

"Thanks, mom," Armie said, leaning in to give her a kiss on each cheek. "We'll see you soon."

The flight up to San Jose was uneventful. Armie held Chris' hand as he stared out the window, both of them uncharacteristically quiet during the hour-long flight. Armie listened as Chris explained his professor's passion for experimentation and expression. The most important thing, Chris said, was that Sam told all of his students to stick to their guns. Chris was still working on that, but he remembered how that notion stuck with him while he was trying to get a publisher. Sam had believed in him so much that he'd personally sent notes to few to get Chris' book to the right eyes. None of his connections panned out, but Chris still appreciated it.

"Are your old classmates going to be there?" Armie asked as they arrived at their hotel room.

"I'm not sure. We don't really talk," Chris said. "Or, they don't talk to me. I didn't do much to keep in touch. Still don't."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"They're all published," Chris said. "I googled them earlier. Lots of books."

"Will they all think I'm stupid?"

"Are you serious?"

"Just a thought."

Chris pushed his suitcase into the closet after hanging up his and Armie's black suits. He sat down on the bed and looked over at Armie, who was gazing out of the window. "It's weird that the Four Seasons has a view of an Ikea."

"This hotel looks like an office building," Chris said. "But there's a rooftop pool."

"Maybe later," Armie said. "I don't think I..."

"I packed your trunks."

Armie sat down next to Chris, who immediately rested his head on Armie's shoulder. "You okay?"

"It's tough. Even though we didn't talk a lot, when we did, it always meant a lot to me."

"You want to get something to eat?"

"Yeah, let me show you how everything I remember is gone."

Chris drove, which was unusual. Armie generally liked driving and Chris made no qualms about how much he hated it. But given the circumstances, he wanted to be behind the wheel, even though the very short drive from East Palo Alto to University Drive was just a few minutes long. Armie had never been to this part of California before and he noted that it seemed to be a world away from San Francisco, which he was familiar with. And even though Chris explained it was a college town, it was decidedly different from Santa Barbara, another area that revolved around a school. Here, things seemed way more established, like the buildings had been around forever, even though Armie could see that most of the old buildings along the main drag had been converted into trendy restaurants and recognizable stores. He was surprised that the campus was adjacent to a shopping mall, that the 101 freeway bisected the city, and that most of the students walking around were decked out in designer clothes.

"It's really different," Chris said as they settled into a booth at a Middle Eastern restaurant. He'd gone there during his years at school, though he insisted to Armie that the prices had gone up and the whole place got a remodel.

"Did you like school?" Armie asked.

"I loved it, for the most part. I remember the good parts, mostly. I'm sure I was stressed out and worried about being a struggling writer the whole time, but I remember liking it."

"Do you care that I'm a dropout?"

"Why is this coming up now? I don't care."

"This is the first time we've been around your crowd, Chris," Armie said. "I'm nervous."

"You're nervous? You realize that literally everyone falls in love with you? You're one of the most handsome people walking the Earth. I've seen people hang on your every word."

Armie blushed, shaking his head, "That's all part of the business. This is real life."

Chris reached for Armie's hand and kissed his knuckles. "You're crazy. I love you so much. Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about. Plus, I'm you've talked to some of these people before."

Armie didn't say anything. "Let's not make this about you, okay? A man died."

"I'm sorry," Armie said, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I don't know what's going on. I'm really sorry."

Chris talked and Armie listened. College was a long time ago, but being in Palo Alto brought all the memories back. All the struggles in math classes, a few questionable class choices here and there, and then graduation, which was happy for everyone except him. Sure, he was glad to be done with school, but he also wished he was one of the kids with their parents -- or in his case, grandparents -- in the stands. He was alone. In Stanford Stadium, which held 50,000 people, he never felt more alone. Sam and his wife invited him to dinner, though. It was something he never forgot.

"You're like, oh, I'm used to it. I'm a lone wolf," Chris said. "But then everyone's with their families and taking pictures and I'm by myself. I didn't have even one person I could have invited."

"That's heartbreaking," Armie said, rubbing Chris' leg. "I know you went through that. But hearing you talk about it is different."

"I don't talk about it," Chris said, reaching for his water glass. "I wrote about it. I got that out of my system."

"That's not what you have to do."

"But it's what I did."

"Are you going to keep talking about it?"

"Maybe," Chris says. "But don't count on it."

The pool is quiet and the water is almost still. Against the dark, inky sky, the bright blue light shining from the water is electric, almost too vivid to be real. Chris ignored it entirely, heading into the hot tub, instead. Armie was just a few paces behind, his steps almost silent. Chris let out a long sigh as the warmth enveloped him, the hot water loosening his tense muscles. It felt like he'd been a knot of emotion since he got the phone call and the combination of warm water and strong jets seemed to be exactly what he needed. Before he knew it, he was sitting in Armie's lap, their foreheads pressed together and the smell of chlorine filling the air around the both of them. 

"Thanks for remembering my trunks," Armie said, smiling, happy to have something to get their minds off of the somber occasion at hand.

"I know what I'm doing sometimes," Chris said, feeling Armie's shoulders, sliding his hands down to grip Armie's biceps.

Armie kissed Chris softly, smiling when they pulled apart, his hands coming to rest on Chris' lower back. He could do this forever, he thought. As long as they were this close, Armie couldn't think of anything better. And just as the thought entered his mind, Chris reached up over his shoulder and hit a button somewhere, filling the tub with bubbles. Armie's smile grew. Things could get just a little better.

"I wish that we could have been here under different circumstances," Chris said. "I actually really liked college. There's a lot of stuff on campus I'd want you to see. The Rodin sculpture garden. The Lane Reading Room. It has these huge windows. I spent a lot of time there."

"We've got time for that. It's an hour flight," Armie said, his lips brushing against Chris' neck, his ear, his jaw. "We'll come back."

Chris heard a sound coming from the other end of the pool and he pushed himself off of Armie with lightning-quick reflexes. The sound of a family boomed through the still night air and Chris ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead as he looked around for a clock. It wasn't as late as the night let on. Armie gave a friendly wave to the couple as they tossed a pile of towels and goggles onto one of the lounge chairs that lined the perimeter of the pool, the two kids splashing into the water in a raucous fit of giggles.

"Good evening," Armie said. Chris could see right through the smile. All he wanted was a good old-fashioned make-out session. It was selfish, since the family was just taking advantage of the hotel's amenities, but Chris couldn't help but feel a little cheated. The moment was gone.0

"I'm going back up to the room," Chris said, standing up.

"No, stay," Armie said, pulling him back down. "Relax. We both need it."

Chris let the warm water envelop him again as he rested his head on Armie's shoulder. He turned his eyes up, looking past Armie's blue eyes to focus on the deep purple of the sky overhead. It was too bright for any real stargazing, but as he held Armie's hand under the water, things felt perfectly aligned.

The next day, Armie accompanied Chris to a lunch with Sam's wife, Deanna. It wasn't as somber as an actual funeral, but Armie wouldn't say that anyone was in good spirits. The small group of people that Chris introduced him to included other professors and a few classmates. Armie stayed on the periphery, but Chris seemed a little uneasy, too. The whole time, he didn't stay more than a few steps away from Armie. Nobody else would have noticed, but Armie could feel the nervous energy coming off of him, could see the way Chris' eyes stayed ultra-alert, making sure that he was taking stock of everything happening around him.

"We all knew Chris would be a big deal." It was another writer from Chris' graduating class. "But I don't think anyone could have guessed he'd be so successful."

"I don't think he expected it," Armie said. Chris was either in the bathroom or getting water, Armie forgot which. Maybe both? Wherever he went, he left Armie alone, leaning against a doorjamb and watching as everyone got reacquainted with each other, catching up in a way only old friends could.

"We were the group class that Sam had," he added. "It was like a family."

That perked up Armie's ears. "He doesn't talk about his time at Stanford very much. Was it bad?"

"He went through some things. I don't know what it's like now, but he'd get sort of lost in his work and just shut everything out."

"Some things don't change," Armie said. Chris came back, a full glass of water in each hand.

"Charlie was always Sam's favorite," Chris said, handing Armie his water.

"A lot of good that did me," he said. "I don't know how you put out so many books. I ran out of ideas after my second."

"Charlie was the first one of us to get an actual contract," Chris said, his hand reaching for Armie's. "We were all jealous. But that was a long time ago. We've all grown up. We were all supposed to be the next big thing and now...we're, I don't know, old news?"

"Jealousy is an ugly trait," Charlie said. "We all ended up putting out books and that's an achievement. Without each other, we wouldn't have done it, that's for sure. Without Sam pushing us, without you freaking us all out."

"Why did I freak you out? I was always scared you'd all rip my pieces apart. And you did. Nobody here held anything back. We all made each other upset all the time."

"Still fresh wounds after all these years? You've got so many awards I don't know where to even start sarcastically talking about them," Charlie said. "You're doing fine. Better than fine."

Armie's hand moved to Chris' back. "Sam never believed in that whole 'there's no such thing as bad publicity' thing. He didn't like that I was kept showing up in 'People' and 'Us Weekly.' But he also told me that making books into movies was something writers only dream of. I'll never forget how proud he seemed when I told him about it the first time."

"I'm Charlie Williams," Charlie said, offering his hand to Armie. "I didn't get an introduction, but that's understandable under these circumstances."

"Armie Hammer. Chris' husband."

"I knew that part," Charlie said.

"Armie thought we'd all be standing around talking about Chekov's pistol or something," Chris said. "Thanks for showing him that we're all just normal people."

"Like you ever believed in that," Charlie added. "I thought we'd all be fawning over your big movie-star husband, but nobody seems to be in the mood for that."

"It gets old fast," Chris said.

"Maybe for you," Armie said, smiling. "I don't mind."

"Madison has been staring at him the entire time," Charlie said. "Not even trying to be subtle. She always was jealous of you. You just keep giving her ammunition."

"Enough with the gun references," Chris said. "Did you see how much downtown changed? Everything's gone. It's all Cheesecake Factory and Lululemon now."

"I saw it happen. I come back all the time."

"And you didn't do anything to stop it?" Armie asked.

"We're all going to walk over to campus," Madison said from the other room. "They're putting a plaque on the bench outside the Humanities building."

"There will probably be more people there," Chris said to Armie. "You okay with that?"

"Lead the way," Armie said. "I'm here for you."

Armie thought they were all friends, but seeing them talk to each other and, in some cases, avoid each other, made it clear that they were friendly. It had been a long time since college and Armie could feel the underlying tension that existed between a few of Chris' colleagues. There was some jealousy, that was clear, but it was mixed with a touch of admiration, too. Chris didn't seem fazed by that part of the situation. Instead, Armie sensed that he was more concerned with the actual task at hand: his mentor had passed away. He seemed nonplussed by the activity happening around him, which didn't surprise Armie at all.

The walk to campus was quiet, but Armie introduced himself to a few more of Chris' classmates. The graduating class was small, just a dozen students in the creative writing department, so it wasn't overwhelming just yet. Some had gone into academia. Some were still writing fiction. Armie heard a few say under their breath that Chris had sold out after he'd adapted his book for Hollywood. It was nothing new. He'd heard Chris talk about it before. But hearing it firsthand filled him with a rage he'd never felt before. It took everything to keep his opinions inside, but he knew what Chris thought already. It wasn't worth making a scene. Peoples' opinions were already made. It wasn't Armie's job to change their minds when it came to Chris and his work. 

The bench's dedication was a more crowded affair. There were other faculty members, way more students, and even some press. Chris and Armie assumed that the younger ones were from the school newspaper, but they were standing beside a few people who looked like real journalists. Chris pulled back at Armie's hand, letting everyone else walk a few paces ahead. He could wait. Everyone else could pay their respects first. 

"We used to meet up at this bench to swap our work," Chris explained. "We'd all critique each other's writing. We always met up here once a week to pass out our printouts. It feels like 100 years ago."

Armie didn't say anything. He was reveling in the opportunity to get this intimate glimpse into Chris' past. He'd been more open and forthcoming during this trip than ever before. Walking the same streets as a younger version of the man he loved, seeing where he basically came of age, where he honed his craft, where he undoubtedly laughed and cried, it was all hitting Armie deep in his heart. It was special, to say the very least. To hear Chris talk about it was one thing, to see it for himself was something else entirely. 

"Can I ask you for a comment? I'm with the 'Chronicle.'" A reporter asked, coming up to the two of them and knocking Armie back to reality.

"No, I'm sorry," Chris said, his conviction strong. "But maybe Charlie or Madison can get you what you need. I don't think I could give you anything worth publishing."

Armie felt Chris pull him towards the crowd, closer to the bench. Armie watched as he closed his eyes, bowed his head the tiniest bit, and took a slow, deliberate breath. Chris' arm wrapped around his waist and they moved into a comfortable, well-practiced configuration, Chris' head on Armie's shoulder, Armie's arm around him, every curve and contour slotting together perfectly. Chris wiped a single tear from his eye and straightened himself. The moment lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. It was hard to face the finality of everything, but this wasn't the first time Chris had lost someone important. He could add another name to the list.

"I'm with the 'Daily,'" a meek voice said as Chris and Armie walked away. "Can I ask you a few questions? It's for the school newspaper."

"Yeah," Chris said. "Anything."

"Can you just talk about what Professor Wilkinson meant to you?" The hesitation in his voice was clear. Chris glanced over to where the reporter was interviewing Charlie and Madison, both of them probably offering up the same anecdotes that he was recalling right now.

"Sam. We called him Sam, not Dr. Wilkinson or Professor Wilkinson. He let us write and be as creative as possible, without ever saying we were going too far. But he taught us to reign ourselves in without compromising what we wanted to express, which always stayed with me," Chris said. "We were collaborative with each other in the class and I think everyone could see that we were lucky to be in such a special place at such a special time."

"Thank you," he said. "Armie, would you mind if I...get a photo?"

"Not a problem," Armie said, smiling. Chris snapped a photo of the two of them with the same phone that the reported had just used to record his quote. Before he could even check out his handiwork, Armie and Chris were alone again, the reporter off to file his story as quickly as possible. The "Stanford Daily" waited for nobody.

"Always make time for the future," Chris said. Armie could almost sense a bit of reverence in his tone. "Sam taught us that."


	30. Chapter 30

"Being nominated is an honor," Chris said. "Being nominated more than once is a really big deal."

"It's easy to say when you've already got one," Armie said as he flipped on the lamp on his nightstand. "And just about every other award next to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chris said, wrapping his arms around Armie's waist. "They don't matter, Armie." His voice was quiet and confident.

Armie's hand ran up Chris' back, his fingers stroking his hair. He told himself over and over that it didn't matter. But even with all of that, it would be nice to win. Chris knew. Armie knew that Chris knew just how bad he wanted it, even though he'd never say it out loud. Chris' hands deftly untied Armie's bow tie, popped the top button of his shirt, and carefully undid the studs down the front. Sitting through an award show wasn't his favorite way to spend a night, but undressing Armie after one was something he'd never get sick of.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Armie said.

"I stay humble," Chris said, nuzzling at Armie's neck. "I have a husband that keeps me from getting a big head."

"I'm going to take a shower," Armie said, letting out a low sigh. "I'm sorry. I just...it's...I don't know."

Chris grabbed at Armie's hand as he turned on his heels. "It's not a big deal, Armie. It's out of our hands."

Armie gave his hand a squeeze and offered a weak smile. "I know that, but I still don't feel great about it." He paused for just a second, catching Chris' gaze with his own. "I'll be quick."

Chris set his Kindle down when he saw Armie emerge from the bathroom. His underwear sat low on his hips and he ran his fingers through his hair one more time before taking the slow walk to his side of the bed. The dim, warm light of Chris' lamp cast a golden glow on his every move. Chris was sitting up against the headboard, but let himself slide down just a little when he felt the bed dip. "Feel better?"

"I'm fine," Armie said, sliding into bed. He settled in, resting his head in Chris' lap. Chris stroked Armie's hair slowly and gently, hoping the momentary lapse in self-confidence would pass. It did every other time, so there was no reason this time would be any different.

"You're allowed to be disappointed," Chris said, his voice quiet. "But you're not allowed to let this sort of thing get you down."

"I want the respect that comes with it. That's all."

"You're respected," Chris said. "You know that."

"Sometimes I know that," Armie said, finally feeling himself relax. "Sometimes I'm just another face in the crowd. Are you tired?"

"Very."

"It's a lot of disappointment to take in."

"It's out of our hands," Chris said. "All of it."

Armie didn't say anything. Just maneuvered their bodies so that they were underneath the sheets and pressed together, as much skin touching as possible. Chris reached out to turn off the light, feeling Armie's lips on the back of his neck. "I love you," Armie said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chris brought his coffee up to the office the next morning, taking the opportunity to catch up on correspondence during the downtime that always came after the Oscars. Before he even got a chance to settle in at his desk, Armie appeared at the door. "Good morning."

"How's your head?"

"I'm fine," Armie said. "I didn't have that much Champagne."

"Let me see it one more time."

"No," Chris said, scrolling through his email. "You have it in your email, too."

"Why do you think they said no?"

"I have no idea. Everything seemed right." Chris finally looked up at Armie, their eyes meeting in shared confusion. "I'm sorry it happened, but we tried."

Armie ran his hands over his face and made his way to the loveseat. He fixed his eyes out the window and let out a long breath. "Two divorces between us. That's probably what did it."

"Don't dwell on it. Please. And I don't think the divorces had anything to do with it."

"I've got a lot of free time to think and dwell."

Chris pulled up the email one more time. He'd read it over and over, but one more time might be just the thing to get it out of his system. It couldn't have come at a worse time, either. Chris' book was set to be released--David always did his best to time it to coincide with the Academy Awards for maximum publicity--and there was the possibility that Armie would come home with a trophy. But the Friday before, just as they were finalizing which tuxedo Armie would wear and Chris was signing books in the dining room, they got the bad news. The adoption agency that they'd been working with informed them that they wouldn't be getting a baby after all. They'd gone to all the interviews, gotten all of the letters of recommendation, and proved that they had more than enough to take care of an infant. Armie had been elated when they were told there was a match, a girl who wasn't ready to be a mom and wanted to give her baby to a couple that was.

Chris wasn't sure that he was ready, but Armie's enthusiasm was contagious. They hadn't gone so far as to buy baby things or to tell anyone--save Sebastian, who was always over at the house--but it was still a shock to have their expectations shattered. Armie was heartbroken. Chris knew it even though he didn't say a word. The buzzy excitement of the Oscars seemed to be a dull distraction now. There was no reason why. The girl had just decided that she was going to keep the baby, after all. There was nothing they could do about it and the adoption agency said that they'd keep looking.

"I chose the name Emerson," Armie said quietly.

"You weren't supposed to think about things like that already," Chris said.

"I couldn't help it."

"Ralph Waldo Emerson?"

"Maybe. I just liked the sound of it."

Chris had steeled himself for something like this. He read about the false hope. He knew that things didn't always work out the way parents wanted. He didn't look at it as being pessimistic. He was being realistic. What were the odds that their very first lead would work out? But before they'd even gotten started, way back when Armie was trying to convince him that maybe he should just think about it, Chris didn't know if he could do it. But for Armie, he did. For Armie, he'd try anything. Once. He'd try anything once. But it seemed unfair to toss that ultimatum into this process.

"Did you have a good run?" Armie asked, pulling Chris out of his head.

"Yeah. Seb and I did a few miles."

"It feels weird, doesn't it?" Armie said, mostly to himself. "But...life goes on. It's all we can do."

Relief washed through Chris' body. Armie had a way of dwelling on things, so knowing that he was ready to put this hiccup behind him was a good sign. "Do you want another coffee?" Armie asked.

"I'd love one," Chris said.

Armie walked over to give him a kiss on the forehead. "You left this on your night table," he said, gently setting Chris' wedding band down next to his laptop. He picked up Chris' empty coffee mug and was gone without another word.

Downstairs, Armie opened all of the curtains, flooding the living room and kitchen with the morning light. He set some water to boil and opened a few of the doors, letting fresh air in along with the sunshine. Even though he felt like the world was crumbling around him, it was clear that things were just fine. He appreciated the reminder.

Armie went through the motions of making coffee, his eyes not even focusing on the task at hand. He'd done it a million times, would do it a million more times. He felt Chris before he heard or saw him. Arms coming around his waist, a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. "Things are going to be okay," Chris said.

"You're saying everything except for 'we can keep trying.'"

Chris hugged him a little tighter. "Because I don't know if I can. I had a panic attack when you brought it up."

"Well...yeah," Armie said. "I get it. Sort of."

"We've got time to figure things out," Chris said. "We can think about trying again."

"I'll take it."

Just a month ago, right as prep for the Oscars was starting to ramp up, Armie came into the office, a smug grin on his face. He'd taken the initiative and contacted an adoption agency. Chris could see the excitement on his face, but saw it quickly melt away when he felt his own breathing jump. He felt the color drain from his face, the familiar and unwelcome pressure in his chest as he struggled to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Armie said, panic painting his features. He rushed over, but was unsure what to do when he ended up standing behind Chris.

Chris' eyes were wide, his knuckles white as he gripped at the edge of his desk. The more he tried to calm down, the worse it got, the shallower his breathing. He grabbed onto Armie's forearm and pulled himself up, scrambling to open the window and let in some air.

"Chris, what's going on?"

He couldn't talk. All he could do was fall to his knees, his face in his hand as he doubled over. "I'm okay," Chris said, finally looking up at Armie.

"You're not okay," Armie said, rubbing Chris' back.

"I'm okay," Chris insisted, finally gaining his bearings. "I don't know what happened."

"That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for," Armie said.

"We can't have a baby. What if we die?"

"What if we what?"

"We travel a lot. Planes crash. Cars crash. I don't know. The world doesn't need another orphan. God, your mom would have to take care of the baby if we died."

"What are you talking about?"

Chris didn't even know. The words were spilling out of him, unfettered by common sense and logic. Everything he'd ever thought about when anyone brought up the idea of kids came to the surface and boiled over. "I sound crazy."

"You are," Armie said, wrapping an arm around Chris' shoulders. "Do you think about us dying a lot?"

"Not a lot," Chris said, his voice quiet. "But we could."

"Well, yeah," Armie said. "But we could also survive every car ride and plane trip."

"I know I sound crazy."

"Don't say that," Armie said.

It took a few days for Chris to process exactly what Armie had done, which was just about everything. He'd gone out and done all the legwork, gathering all their information, getting everything sent over to the agency, making sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. He knew that he should have said something, he admitted, but once the whole thing got rolling, he couldn't stop himself. The thought of it still made Chris nervous, but he went along with it. Everything he read said that it was fine to be hesitant. There wasn't anything about having panic attacks, however. Dr. Dao told them to take things slow. Armie didn't always listen.

One false lead. One glimmer of hope. And now, one heartbreaking email. It was Armie's turn to slam into a wall of emotion. Chris pulled him over to the sofa, hoping some quiet time together would be enough for the both of them to just let all the emotions settle. Their bodies came together in a familiar, practiced tangle. He wasn't sure if it was the adoption or another award season where he came home empty-handed, but Chris figured neither of those reasons seemed like something that would be good for Armie's self-confidence.

"How many books do you have left to sign?"

"A few boxes."

"It's not even lunchtime yet and I'm exhausted."

"I think you're allowed," Chris said, his fingertips tracing along Armie's knuckles.

"I know you don't think you're ready. But I see you with your nieces. I see you with other kids. You're great."

He'd heard it before. Armie was convinced of it, but it would take more than a few babysitting sessions to make Chris more comfortable with the idea. But he went along with it, thanks in part to some encouragement and all the enthusiasm Armie could muster. Being between projects always put him in a weird headspace. Armie had shown time and again that he was perfect dad material. Chris saw it all the time, not only with Ramona and Gloria, but with kids on set and even the children they met at the supermarket. He deserved to be a dad and even though Chris didn't feel the same way about himself, he wouldn't be the thing standing between Armie and fatherhood.

"I know things like this take time," Armie said. "I was just hoping we'd be the exception."

Chris' book signing at the Hammer Museum was an exception, too. If he ever did a signing, it was always at UCLA, but Dru had insisted. The museum had his name on it, too, and Chris knew better than to put up any sort of fight. It would be pretty routine, Chris thought. A reading. A quick signing. Shaking hands and posing for pictures. But after Chris snapped his last Sharpie marker closed, Armie was nowhere to be found. He had been sitting in the front row during the reading, but Chris saw him get up during the Q&A session.

"Bestseller already," Chris heard. It was Sebastian. "That can't be bad news." He pulled Chris into a hug, "Congratulations again."

"Thank you," Chris said. "Good reviews. Good sales. I'm okay with it."

"Where's Armie?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Chris said, surveying the crowd. It was never hard to spot him, so it was clear he wasn't around. "I don't know where he went."

"Are we getting burgers after this?"

"Yeah, definitely," Chris said, his eyes still darting from face to face. "Just let me find my husband and we can go."

It took about 20 minutes for Chris to get through the crowd, to sign a few more books and to have a few more photos taken. He stepped out into the darkened courtyard, knowing well enough that it's where Armie would be. Well enough after he checked everywhere indoors, that is.

"David should know by now that you don't smoke these," Armie said as Chris approached. A cloud of cigar smoke wafted above him, rising up into the velvety night sky as he blew upwards.

"He sends them for you," Chris said, his hands sliding into his pockets as he got closer.

Armie chuckled. "He's a nice guy."

"Should we get going?"

"This book made me cry," Armie said, reaching out to hold Chris' hand as he leaned against the wall next to him.

"Is that unusual?"

"No, but, this book isn't typical. You told me you were writing a love story and this book is about a family."

"Yeah, there's lots of love in this story."

"Do you want a family? You say things and you write things and sometimes I don't know what's what."

Chris gave Armie's hand a squeeze. He watched as Armie snuffed the rest of his cigar against the concrete before pulling him close.

"Christopher," Armie said, their foreheads together. "All you've ever wanted is a family. I know that."

"I'm scared," Chris said, his voice cracking. "I'm really scared."

Armie wrapped his arms around Chris' back, placing soft kisses wherever he could touch in Chris' hair, on his forehead and his temples. Hearing it out loud after all this time made it real for the both of them. "I don't think that's unusual," Armie said, stroking Chris' cheek.

"I don't want to let you down," Chris said, pressing his face into Armie's chest. "But I don't want to let a baby down, either."

It was completely rational and completely irrational all at once. Armie held Chris tight, unsure of what to say. "Let's get out of here," Armie said. "You did really great tonight."

"I know I'm disappointing you," Chris said, wiping at his eyes. "And that breaks my heart."

"It's not like that," Armie said. "You'd never disappoint me. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"If something happened to us, your mom would have to take care of our kid," Chris said. "Can you imagine that?"

"We'd make sure my brother gets guardianship. Or even Sebs," Armie joked. "My mom wouldn't be involved."

Chris stepped back, taking Armie's hand in his own. "Take me home."

They made their way back to the main galleries, hoping to avoid the crowd, which had thinned by now. As soon as the servers stopped passing around the Champagne, most people left, books in hand, ready to be read or tossed aside. Chris' books didn't make for good coffee table decorations, so he assumed most people bought them to slide onto their bookshelves to impress their friends, not actually read. Maybe that was the wrong way to look at things, but nobody seemed to remember any plot points that weren't printed on the book jacket.

"There you are," Sebastian said. "Were you crying? What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Chris said. "We've just had a lot to take on."

"Nothing you haven't gone through before, right?" Sebastian asked, the concern fading from his face.

"We'll survive," Armie said, squeezing Sebastian's shoulder. "Let's go. I think we all need to get out of here."

A love story wasn't exactly what Chris had set out to write, but it's what came out of him this time around. It was quicker than ever before, it was breezy and carefree, and unlike most of his other releases, this one was smooth and easy from start to finish. Even David noticed. Revisions were minimal and Chris didn't struggle with anything, from the initial concept to the final draft. It was definitely unusual, but Chris could get used to it. Armie had watched from afar, slightly amazed at how different the process seemed this time around. With the distraction of looking into adopting, he had plenty of things to keep busy.

When the reviews came in, there wasn't a thing to worry about in that department, either. Critics, even ones that seemed hell-bent on pointing out every flaw in Chris' work, seemed enamored with this book. It was accessible, happy, and different from just about all his other ones. And while most writers would take that as an insult, Chris was always known as being experimental, so it was tough for most reviewers to pin down a distinct style. Chris was usually more associated with themes, anyway. This time around, he was doing a complete about-face from the usual cerebral, dark, and heavy books. But just because it had a happy ending didn't mean it was just fluff.

Chris grabbed for Armie's phone, which buzzed with an unfamiliar number. Chris sent the call straight to voicemail, hoping that nobody around him would notice. The silent setting wasn't exactly silent when the vibrations against a table were just as noisy as a ringtone. Armie was on the other side of the set, looking at a spread of screens, his face on every single one.

Then, Chris' phone buzzed. Chris pulled it out of his pocket, realizing just how silly he looked with a phone in each hand. It was the same number.

"This is Christopher. Christopher Hammer."

From the corner of his eye, Armie saw Chris fiddling with something. The production assistants, a few rolling trunks, and a slew of extras milling around, were obscuring him, but Armie noticed the commotion immediately. Chris' eyes met his across the chaos, but Armie couldn't tell just what was happening. They hadn't even reached the halfway point of the shooting schedule today and they were already running behind.

"Do you know if Chris has a walkie-talkie?" Armie asked a passing PA.

He only got a shrug in response. Armie looked down at the table, scrambling to grab his own walkie, but by the time he looked up, Chris wasn't under the pop-up canopy anymore. Armie's eyes scanned the crowd. Chris was gone.

Armie rushed over to where he'd left his phone. A message from Chris read simply: "I'll be in the trailer. The adoption agency came through." Armie could feel his breath hitch, but he forced himself to hold back any emotional swell. This wasn't the first time. The whole situation could fall through all over again. He wasn't going to get too hopeful right now.

Chris' fingers were flying across his laptop's keyboard as Armie swung the trailer door open. This wasn't the biggest project, so he was lucky to have a trailer at all, but Chris had holed up in it often enough that they'd made it comfortable enough. "What's the news?"

"When are you done today? The agency wants to meet up. They said a special case came in. They won't tell me any details." His eyes didn't waver from the screen and his words were sharp and quick. This was focused Chris.

"We can be done now," Armie said. "Tell them we can be there in half an hour."

"Really?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"45 minutes," Armie said. "It's rush hour."

Chris was tense the entire drive from Culver City to Santa Monica. In true L.A. style, the few miles did end up taking 45 minutes. "What a day for us to look like shit," Chris said. He was wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. While he usually would be anxious and nervous, something about the phone call made it sound like this was different. They'd gone through meetings, filed so much paperwork, and been through so much that he should have been numb by now, but it wasn't quite there. He didn't know how to describe it, but nauseous would probably be the most accurate.

"This isn't an interview," Armie assured him. He reached over for Chris' hand, but he was on his phone, refreshing his email over and over again. "Are you nervous?"

"I don't want you to get upset over it again."

"I can't make any promises."

"This movie seems...efficient," Chris said, rubbing his eyes. "I mean everything's going on schedule. That's good."

"What's wrong?" Armie said, chuckling. "You can't even talk. Calm down."

"Did you see the email?"

"No. I figured you did."

"It's not a girl," Chris said. He finally reached over for Armie's hand, squeezing it in his own. He knew that Armie had wanted a girl, but through the rejection and false hope, Chris figured Armie would be happy no matter what came their way.

"It's not important," Armie said. "What else did it say?"

"It's not important," Chris said. "Just that this was a very special case."

"No matter what happens today, we can't stop trying. You'll make a very good dad. Don't doubt yourself."

"I'm going to doubt myself the entire time," Chris said.

Chris was in a daze, listening but not really taking anything in as the adoption agent spoke. Armie was engrossed, leaning in, his forehead furrowed as he absorbed each and every word. It was happening so fast, even though they'd been working on it for months. The emotional trip was one thing. Going through it with Armie was something else. If Chris was working on a book right now, it would be a maelstrom.

"His parents died in a car accident," Chris heard the agent say. He looked over at Armie and their eyes locked.

"This is the one," Chris said, the words jamming together and spilling from his mouth. Armie looked alarmed for a split second before he reached for Chris' hands and nodded.

"This is the one."

"It's nothing like you wanted. He's a boy. He's three. He has family, they just can't take this on financially. He has a name."

"Euan," Chris said. "It's weird. Why isn't it Ewan?"

"It doesn't matter," Armie said. "Do what you can. This is the one."

The appointment was over in less than 15 minutes. They were back in the car before Chris even realized what had happened. In a few days, they'd have to drive to San Diego for a supervised visitation. If everything worked out, Euan would be living with them in just a few days. Armie was a ball of excitement and Chris didn't know if there was anything that could wipe the smile off his face. Chris listened as Armie told his mom everything on the car speakerphone. She seemed excited and even though Chris remained silent during the entire conversation, he was relieved at Dru's reaction.

Chris pulled Armie away from the front door when they got home. Armie took the hint, stepping alongside Chris as they made their way to the sidewalk. The sky was starting to darken and the ocean breeze was pulling goose bumps up on Chris' forearms. They'd talked about a baby a million times. Chris had examined it from every angle and thought that he could maybe handle it. Armie, with his gung-ho attitude, latched onto the sentiment, hoping against everything that Chris was just hesitant to any change. The way he interacted with his nieces was enough evidence that he could hold his own with children. They made their way around the canals and Armie listened to the same concerns again. If Chris needed to get it out of his system, Armie would let him.

It was dark by the time they got back to the front door. Chris leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Armie rifled through the mail. "As long as we do it together," Chris said. "We can do anything. You tell me that all the time."

"You're stuck with me," Armie said, smiling. "So that's that. We're going to get this kid. Whatever it takes."

Chris picked up the soccer ball that sat alone on the tiny patch of grass in the front yard, smiling as he opened the door. Euan, who took to his new dads immediately, had just turned five. That meant soccer camp, kindergarten, and driving both Chris and Armie crazy with nonstop questions and finally deciding that he could choose his own outfits. The first year together had been a comedy of errors, with Chris hoping to do everything by the book -- he had amassed a whole stack of them -- and then tossing every rule out. He and Armie had slowed everything down, hoping to spend as much time as possible with their new toddler. Chris put every project on hold. Armie finished his movie and took some time off, too. It was like they disappeared completely, something neither of them thought was even possible.

"Kiddo, you can't leave this outside," Chris said, plopping the ball down on the floor and kicking it over to where Euan and Armie were in the kitchen.

"No kicking in the house," Euan said, smiling. Chris leaned down to kiss the top of his head before leaning up to kiss Armie.

"How was practice today?" Chris asked, setting a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Chaos," Armie said. He rummaged through the bag and pulled out everything he needed. Chris could already tell that there was a pizza in the works.

"Let me hose him off and we'll be down before dinner. Can you handle this playdate-dinner date prep situation by yourself?"

"I'll manage," Armie said. "Take it easy. He'll go down easy tonight. He was running around all day."

"Daddy said you made some friends today at soccer," Chris said as they made their way upstairs. "Are you and Caleb both having fun?"

Euan nodded, chuckling as he recounted the day's activities in meticulous detail, right down to how everyone got a chance to kick the ball into the goal. His talkative nature definitely came from his other dad, but Chris loved to listen to him go on an on, loved to pick up on which details he chose to focus on, what fascinated someone at such a young age. Everything Chris had worried about seemed to be a distant memory. As anxiety-inducing as that idea was, taking things as they came was Chris' usual strategy. He was learning as much about himself as he was about being a dad.

Chris heard the doorbell ring as he was pulling Euan's sneakers. A few moments later, the walked down the stairs to see Robbie and his husband, Greg, sitting in the living room. Armie had opened all of the back doors and Caleb, Robbie and Greg's son and Euan's best friend, immediately bounded towards them. "Hey Caleb," Chris said, kneeling down to give him a quick hug. "You guys are wearing the same shoes." Both of them looked down at their feet to see the same pair of checkerboard Vans.

They erupted into a fit of laughter and scrambled to join their dads. Chris and Armie had met Robbie Rogers and Greg Berlanti after Chris reached out to them, wanting some advice, some insight, and, more than anything else, someone to relate to. They clicked immediately and, thankfully, Euan and Caleb did, too. Being the same age, they became quick pals and Chris was so appreciative to have another couple around that was almost like him and Armie.

It helped that Greg was in the entertainment industry, too. It gave him and Armie something to talk about. Chris and Robbie, who played soccer, were usually happy to let them talk shop.

"He looks more like you every day," Greg said before taking a long sip of beer.

"Very funny," Chris said, settling in next to Armie. It was true, though. Euan had dark brown hair and dark eyes, giving him more of Chris' characteristics than Armie's.

"You excited to get back to business?" Greg asked.

"I've got a lot of options," Chris said. "Sebastian has a favorite, Armie has one. It's up to me and David to get through the weeds."

"He said he wasn't working these last couple years, but you know that's not true," Armie said. "You can't turn off this brain." He leaned over and kissed Chris' temple.

"You had nothing to worry about," Greg said. "If anything, that little guy is just a nonstop source of material for you."

"I'm still living in a constant state of fear that I'm going to mess him up," Chris said. "But he's fine."

"He'll be fine," Robbie said. "So are we going to celebrate or just talk about the kids? This isn't a PTA meeting."

"Sebastian's not here yet," Chris said, glancing out of the back doors. Sebastian knew he could just come in through the back.

"I'll get you another beer, buddy," Armie said, getting back to his feet.

Greg nodded in appreciation, his eyes focusing on the boys playing just a few feet away.

"There you are," Chris said, getting off the couch as Sebastian appeared on the back patio. He leaned down and scooped Euan up into his arms, rubbing his stubbly face all over Euan's.

"Congratulations," Sebastian said, reaching out to give Chris' shoulder a squeeze. Back on the ground, Euan wrapped his arms around Sebastian's leg. "I see everyone's here for the occasion."

"I couldn't have done it without Greg," Chris said. "He's the one that's making it all happen."

"Like there'd be a show without that book," Robbie said.

"Let me get a soda and we can celebrate," Chris said. He and Sebastian, with Euan still clinging to his leg, made their way to the kitchen. "Euan, let go," Chris said. "Sebastian needs to walk, too."

"We can play in a little bit, kid," Sebastian said. It seemed to satisfy Euan, who begrudgingly let go. The two of them had formed a bond that always made Chris smile. It was easy enough to ask Sebastian to be his godfather, but then they all realized that they didn't really know what that entailed. Sebastian took it as an opportunity to spend as much time with Euan as possible and nobody seemed to mind. He was there on Euan's first day of kindergarten, at his first soccer game, at all his swim lessons -- and Chris and Armie were happy to have him.

"Can I show you my notebook?" Euan asked.

"Of course," Sebastian said. "Let me do this boring stuff and I'll be right there."

Chris handed him a beer and they joined the others in the living room. "So, I never thought any of my books would turn into movies, but they did. Then, I never thought any of them would be plays, but that happened. And now, thanks to Greg, one will be on TV. For that, I can't even start to say how grateful I am. Thank you for seeing something special in 'Four-Letter Words' and working so hard to make everything happen. I love you guys."

"Cheers," Armie said, raising his own bottle. The sound of clinking glass filled the room and everyone exchanged hugs.

"You did good," Armie whispered in Chris' ear. He wrapped his arm around Chris' waist and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "With everything," he said softly.

Euan was sitting in Sebastian's lap in no time at all, flipping through his red Moleskine journal and showing off his scribbles and doodles. Chris always had a notebook in his back pocket, so it made sense that Euan would follow that habit. Armie thought it was adorable and so did most of the people who Euan showed his work to.

"C'mere," Armie said, pulling Chris down to the sofa and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Still think that we're messing up the kid?"

"I think he's messing me up," Chris said. "I've never been more exhausted. I've never been more frazzled. And I've never loved anyone more than that little guy."

"I'm not going to say that I told you so, but I did."

Chris nuzzled against Armie's neck, chuckling. "I was right, too."

"What are you talking about? You were freaking out."

"I told you that there were miles to go before we were done. We took a detour. Got a hitchhiker. Lots of miles left."

"You're so sappy sometimes."

Chris leaned over and kissed Armie one more time. "Sappy is okay sometimes. When it's all of this, it's definitely okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Please send any feedback, complaints, and correspondence to  
> breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.


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